Temple of Kurinthian
by REwriter22
Summary: Set 19 months after the events of the C-Virus outbreak in China, the world has been standing on its last legs trying to reclaim normalcy. Agent Sherry Birkin of National Security, found an old report indicating an isolated outbreak at a temple called "Kurinthian". She tracks down one of the survivors of the expedition, Damien Walsh, and gets his story on the traumatic event.
1. Prologue

Prologue

"My fellow Americans. On June 30, 2013, it was a day of grief, a time of immeasurable loss for the citizens of China; a day that has not seen the meaning of hardship since the viral outbreak in Raccoon City in September 1998. Lanshiang, China has been liberated of Bio-organic Weapons that have been linked to ex-Chief Security Advisor, Derek C. Simmons. Thanks to two DSO Agents, as well as the men and women of the BSAA, China can start rebuilding their fallen city with a sense of hope that their nightmares will soon be behind them. The C-Virus that has once plagued China is still spreading like wildfire across the globe. So far we have reason to believe that there are over 80,000 infectees in desperate need of a vaccine in over twenty-six states.

I am pleased to also announce that there _is_ a vaccine in the making, and it will be distributed to those in need. Ladies and gentlemen, in my humble opinion I do not think this planet can withstand these outbreaks for much longer. It is like we are still living under Umbrella's shadow. My mentor and friend, your Commander in Chief, suffered the same fate in what China went through. Now you all knew how he portrayed himself as a leader. I have never seen such devotion in one human being.

Adam Benford focused on the actual problems of our country instead of giving tax cuts to the rich, or making empty promises to the middle class. He and I have prepared a State of the Union address depicting a buried truth; the truth behind the Raccoon City incident. Later today, I will be delivering that speech so I strongly advise those who were unaffected by the recent tragedy, to tune in with your families as this will be a three hour live event. In President Benford's stead, I am issuing a global wide clean-up of the C-Virus outbreak; TerraSave and other fields of medi-care will be distributing the vaccine to the infectees, and the BSAA will liberate those who are beyond repair.

This is going to be a long clean up from here on out; there is a lot of work to be done. In the meantime, as Vice President I will personally investigate the conspiracy behind Neo-Umbrella, and who has been pulling the strings other than Simmons. Mark my words ladies and gentlemen, as your Vice President I unequivocally promise that there will be no more outbreaks in the foreseeable future. Neo-Umbrella will be disavowed, and this planet will return to normalcy. It _has_ to. I will take any questions at this time."

The conference room was buzzing for questions regarding the cause behind Simmons' betrayal to the agency. As far as the energy fluctuated in the room, people showed signs of physical exhaustion and annoyance.

"Mr. Vice President, can you shed any more light on the citizens of Lanshiang? What's their state of mind right now?"

"A good fraction of those who were in Lanshiang, Waiyip, and Koocheng to name a few were rendered helpless when the C-Virus broke out in secret. Nobody, not even Ambassador Huang Waiyip saw it coming. The evils of Neo-Umbrella didn't show itself until a missile struck the city in a hazing fog. 10,000 citizens were turned into flesh eating monsters while the latter of that 10,000 mutated into something worse. It has only been five days since the outbreak. It will take some time for the Chinese to get their lives back on track."

"Edonia has been limping still from the same situation as China. There has been talk of TerraSave sending medical teams to administer vaccines. But my question is, is the threat in Edonia finished as well?"

"The BSAA have been holding against the virus after Captain Chris Redfield and his team were attacked six months ago. Thanks to his expertise however, B.O.W.s were stretched thin throughout the region. As far as I know, TerraSave has been helping the people of Edonia with readily made vaccines and they should go back to normal soon. On another note, Operatives found remains of an old science lab in the southern part of the country. However, I will not go into further detail on that."

"What about the conspiracy behind Neo-Umbrella? Is the old Umbrella Corporation coming back to haunt us?"

"The Umbrella Corporation had multiple facilities in the states, Russia, and West Africa. The facility in China seemed to be standalone. The two DSO Agents who went after Simmons found evidence on his questionable conduct with National Security and the cloning of a female Chinese Agent. We have reason to believe his involvement with the C-Virus may have been deeper; _a lot_ deeper. As I have stated, we got a long two years ahead of us to clean up the mess Simmons left behind. These viruses never seem to end. Eventually, we will have to rely on a more direct approach so this catastrophe does not happen again. Thank you for your time."

This live broadcast was shown worldwide five days after the China incident, set up by Vice President of the United States, Matthew Keyes. It has been a year and a half since the China catastrophe. The C-Virus Derek Simmons unleashed upon its people was spreading everywhere, leaving almost half of the general population with no chance of survival. Things have been changing in the National Security department as well. Simmons was dead, a few employees left to avoid the fallout and a tarnished reputation he left behind, but a young woman named Agent Sherry Birkin stayed on board. She thought she would still do some good in keeping potential threats to a minimum in their backyard. On one afternoon, Sherry was doing some research on a top classified story that was never to be revealed to the public. For a certain mercenary's sake, she kept the information to herself.

However, it's been three months since Jake Muller contacted her about anything, but she already knew he was a survivor and mercenaries never stayed in one place. On her home lap top, she was looking through some old files that were obtained at the Ozwell E. Spencer estate by B.S.A.A. agents, Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine. The ones in particular were documented copies of Spencer's journal. Going through passages of his personal thoughts, Sherry came across the name "Wesker", Alex Wesker; one of the thirteen manufactured children under the name "Project W". She only knew Jake and his father Albert Wesker, but not Alex aside from a senator named Alexander Rothstein from Pennsylvania.

Passages explained he has been more of a mysterious sort than Spencer cared to admit. He had research and experimental data that was going to immortalize him and bring upon a new rule of dictatorship. It went on about him slowly reaching death but never feared its cold embrace. Then, out of the blue, his work disappeared without a trace. With all the world has gone through with Raccoon City, Europe, Edonia, China, the slew of viruses that have come and gone due to vaccines and Jake Muller's antibodies, there was one missing link that could bring the world into absolute chaos permanently.

Management has been stingy in bringing up past outbreaks. She felt explaining what she found to her superiors would be a waste of time, or worse, get fired from her position in National Security. Then one hidden file grabbed her attention; it spoke of an infiltration mission in a temple outside the Provinces of Norway, led by a "freelance" soldier named Damien Walsh. The mission was dated March 18, 2005: a small military base off the Venezuelan coast was given Intel on a huge disturbance, saying Norwegian inhabitants kept hearing voices and tourists seeing mysterious deaths outside the temple grounds. To Sherry it didn't sound like a big deal, until the name "Wesker" showed up again. For the rest of the afternoon she read the report by this Walsh character, and went up to the newly appointed Chief Advisor early the next day.

Since Simmons demise, National Security was scurrying around to look for a potential replacement. That replacement was Adrien Grey. He was Simmons' successor in becoming the next Chief Security Advisor. He's been in his new position for over seven months and has vowed to get National Security back on track to protecting people from actual human threats. Around 10:13 in the morning, Sherry requested a sit down with the new director to talk to him what she found. After what has happened to the world over the years, it was the noble way to bring the research to light.

"Ah Agent Birkin, good morning." Adrien addressed. "How are you?"

"I'm doing well thank you." Sherry replied.

"Please sit down."

"Sir, I understand the world is still trying to breathe after what happened in China."

"Cut to the chase." He demanded.

"Ok." She sighed, putting printed copies of both Spencer's journal and the article on his desk. "I was looking through some old reports in the BSAA's database and I came across an event that took place at a mansion owned by Ozwell E. Spencer. Take a look."

Adrien analyzed the printed copies with fixed eyes and concern on his face. The report based on Spencer's notes spoke about his Progenitor Virus. She explained that a Wesker child may still be out in the world somewhere. Due to what Spencer said in his journals Alex Wesker stole his research and fled the estate before he was found. He put the files down and confronted Sherry on her findings.

"So, you went into the BSAA's encrypted files and read old reports that were tied up in hopes of never opening again?"

"It was wrong of me. The files popped up as I had some downtime on my lap top. However, I do have a close contact in the organization who gave me access to old files in case if they missed anything."

"This contact wouldn't be Captain Chris Redfield would it? Poor guy's never been the same since his partner died in an underwater oil field last year."

"His sister Claire from TerraSave told me that as well. Now among those files I found a hidden one stuck to the back end of Spencer's notes." She said giving Adrien another file. "It contains images and barred details of what went down in Norway. It was written by a Damien Walsh."

Adrien was familiar with the name. He had only met Damien once through an internet web chat during a Presidential ceremony in 2005. It was three weeks after Damien came back from Norway. They didn't have a full conversation, but after nine years since he first met him he personally had his doubts about his well being. The President at that time, Henry Graham was very particular in keeping the event under wraps because of a dangerous discovery Damien found in the temple. Adrien was only an employee for National Security, working in the Logistics Division. He too was curious as to what was found, but he developed a phobia about the unknown after the Raccoon City incident and decided to leave it alone. If it was any other agent, Adrien would have sent them out the door and none would be the wiser. Sherry was different. He gave her his humble opinion in how to proceed beyond graphic paperwork.

"Ok, the "chief advisor" in me would tell you to put this file back where you found it before one of your other superiors catches you snooping on secret files. The uh..."realist" in me, would be curious about Mr. Walsh's health."

"Is he okay?" She asked.

"Can't say for sure, and I'm not saying that because it's classified information. The hidden file about Norway was a week-long mission that some participants deemed it to be ten years of sleepless nights. The one you found is a fabricated copy."

"I see. Figures..."

"I'll make you a deal, but only because you've had experience with horrors like the ones Damien went through. You have top level clearance to research deeper into what the BSAA has on the Norway mission; find out if he's alive. But on one condition: you're on a very short leash. If you find out he's alive you come to me with that information so we can set up a meet. From there, I want the sit down audio recorded and report back to me after. Do we have a deal?"

Sherry accepted the terms with great enthusiasm. She left his office to go about her business for the rest of the day. By the time she got back to her apartment it was already past midnight. Looking on her cellphone, she had gotten two messages on her voicemail. One was from Jake.

_"Hey Sherry, its me. Listen, I know we haven't been keeping in touch as much as I wanted, but you wouldn't believe the B.O.W.s I messed up today. You remember those lizard creatures I told you about from that Middle Eastern town? Turns out their skin is made of granite; nothing but a little forceful ingenuity couldn't solve. Guess the amount of blood I gave you won't solve the world's problems overnight. Hey, give me a shout when you're free and I uh…will talk to you soon. Bye."_

Relief flushed into her rosy red cheeks to know he was doing well and kicking some B.O.W. ass. It has been awhile since they've seen each other. On the books, they were both partners caught in a much unexpected situation, like she played as the walking plastic container and Jake was the acrobatic blood bag, waiting to cure all viruses. The second message came from Director Adrien Grey, reminding her of the conversation they had earlier. She settled in and made herself a pot of coffee before jumping into some overnight research.

She logged on to her account and searched through old military logs dated back into the early 2000's. It took her from midnight to almost 2:30 in the morning. With four cups of grounded caffeine rushing in her veins she was able to find the official story about a temple called "Kurinthian". It spoke of five, highly capable young men and women infiltrating the temple, and investigating the mysterious murders. Then it shifted over to details based on interviews from the citizens of Norway, complaining about the eerie noises and how their town was haunted by forces unknown. Later on the next day, she called up Director Grey about the article she found and sent it as an attachment to his email.

So far, she was introduced to a grave spectacle of fear, disbelief, and mental frailness that put a toll on those who survived the mission. However, in the article it didn't say whether Damien lived or died. Adrien did some cross reference checking on the names of the survivors as well as their current lives in full view. Soon after, she showered and got dressed she got an text from Grey, saying to report to his office as soon as she got in. From what she knew so far, there was a Wesker child within the temple, a series of puzzles that led to even more mystery, and an overwhelming case of claustrophobia amongst the "highly capable" participants. The only thing she cared about was the Wesker link, not to mention whether or not Damien survived the mission nine years prior. By the time she got to Adrien's office, he was able to find him.

"How did you find Damien so quickly? I thought you said you were going to check on known affiliates."

"I did." He implied as he showed her the name of a new organization that was put together three years after Norway. "His name didn't show up for known affiliates. No other names either. Which is it; anyone survived or is it all bullshit?"

"If I may, maybe you can give the article to one of your analysts or."

"Strictly speaking we're not supposed to have these files. The world is on its' last legs, and the last thing it needs is another tyrant with a god complex."

"So, where do we go from here?" Sherry asked. "The M.F.S. is not really in our wheel house."

"Which brings me to this man." He replied showing her a picture.

"I recognize this guy from the old reports. He was in Raccoon City."

The man from the picture was Carlos Oliveira: a Brazilian Merc and an accomplice to ex-S.T.A.R.S. member Jill Valentine during the T-Virus outbreak. Although Sherry never met the guy before, Adrien thought it would be best to talk to him about Damien's fate since Norway was his last mission before he retired from the Mercenary life. He let Sherry know he was going to talk it over with the board of Security Advisors about a leave of absence. Bags were forming smaller bags under her eyes over the past year. She hasn't really taken a vacation since her involvement in protecting Jake. He thought it would be best to use the opportunity with Brazil as a vacation/assignment.

"Sir, with all due respect if the board gets wind that I'm in Brazil for any other reason."

"Ms. Birkin relax. You'll be fine. I can't have my staff tumbling all over the place because they didn't get an ounce of sleep. Besides, if he is alive, he can be a valuable asset to the Wesker link. But for now, let's focus on doing our jobs and worry about this assignment later."

For a Chief Advisor, he was very lenient on Sherry's persistence in looking for things that were not in her pay grade, regardless of her shadowed history as a child. National Security as well as any military party would be more than relieved to go back to fighting the good fight against human targets. Sherry went back to work that day as if it was another normal work week. Later on Adrien set up an online conference with the other figure heads about giving Sherry a company retreat. When he explained the situation in his own way, the board was very skeptic in his case. Some felt the conference in the first place was a waste of time, especially if it's asking for an employee's time off. He kept rearranging details the best he could as to why Sherry wanted to go to Brazil. That's when the board called him out on it…in a manner of speaking.

_"Mind telling us what this is about, Grey?"_ One of the members asked suspiciously. _"If Agent Birkin is asking for some time off, it is in your power to authorize that request."_

"It's just that she's been through a lot over the past year. I don't want her to feel like she's being watched." Adrien replied.

_"Advisor, we understand you are more compassionate about your employees' well-being, but there are still repairs that need doing across the southern region. You know as well as we do B.O.W.s are still a major threat in some parts of the world."_

"I thought Jake Muller's antibodies counteracted the C-Virus victims. Listen, over the past seven months since I took this job, I have been doing nothing but cleaning up the carnage Simmons left behind. I apologize for my hasty sentimentality; everyone is under a lot of pressure in getting the world back on track."

"_And that is perfectly understandable. That is what we all want now: a normal society. It is still going to take some time for that to happen, especially for the public. They need to be reassured that viral outbreaks will no longer come to light. There have been too many to count since the Raccoon City incident. This one time, we will grant Agent Birkin precisely two days of company retreat; give her a chance to recuperate before sending her back to work."_

"Thank you gentlemen."

One of the members gave him a word of caution though, that if he didn't get his act together before the year was out, he would be fully removed as Chief Security Advisor. You know what they say: "compassion is the enemy." He understood their warning and thanked them again.

A few days later on August 12, 2014, Sherry received a call from Adrien, confirming a ticket he got for Brazil. She was reminded again about getting in contact with Carlos and ask for Damien's whereabouts. Afterwards she texted Jake about whether or not he was going to be in Brazil or somewhere around the Latin countries.

It was a long shot in her mind, but she wanted an opportunity to spend some time with him since she was finally out of the office. When she was at the airport ready to board, she finally got a text from Jake. _"I think I can squeeze in some R&R with you, super girl." _On the flight to Rio de Janeiro, she went on her lap top to look further into the file depicting the events in Norway. By then most of the info was covered in black ink, and there was no search database for a "Damien Walsh" either. When she activated her clearance code, most of Spencer's files went missing from the BSAA's database. Whoever he was serving under she thought, they were very thorough in not making him a known figure connected to the Wesker mystery. 16 hours later, the plane landed in Rio de Janeiro-Galeão International Airport. She got off and didn't see Jake anywhere.

"Come on, Jake. Where are you hiding?" She asked checking her phone.

With the unbearable heat and the jet lag, it didn't do her any favors from a stuffy office on a rainy day. Luckily, she understood a few Brazilian words to help get around the country; even brought a dictionary for extra help. She went to a car rental place and got herself a dune buggy with plenty of air conditioning. As she drove out on the road, she searched in her database for Carlos Oliveira's whereabouts. He was located in a 2 bedroom apartment just outside of Natal, along the Rio Grande. Sherry parked her car and walked amongst Natal's inhabitants. There was still no sign of Jake until she finally got a call from him.

_"Thought I forget?"_

"Where are you, mister?" She asked rolling her eyes.

"_On a bounty mission. A fat ass loan shark's been scamming scholarship money from soccer interns."_

"Forget I asked. Um, do you know where I can find 2 bedroom apartments in Natal? I'm in the area now but I can't find any."

_"Nah, I'm not familiar with that part of the country. Got flown here last night myself. Wait, I'll call you back."_

Sherry sighed and got out her dictionary. She was walking around town, asking people for directions or if anyone was familiar with Carlos' name. Eventually she was pointed to a five mile ride north towards the beach bays, leading into an ocean scape with apartments overlooking the sea. It was beautiful this time of year; as if no viral outbreaks scathed its' sands or historical establishments. Sherry got out of her car with notebook in hand to search for Carlos' place, but then was distracted by the clear water in the distance. She breathed in the sea air, imagining what would have been like if she was on an actual vacation with Jake. One mysterious fella with a semi-heavy accent stood next to her, complimenting on what a beautiful place Brazil was. It was like paradise compared to the struggles he endured in the states.

"A dark past huh? You're not the only one." Sherry said.

"I have lived here for most of my later life. Working in the states wasn't all it's cracked up to be."

"Sadly, I'm not on vacation. I am looking for this guy named Carlos Oliveira. You wouldn't know him by any chance right?"

"Aye, I know the name." The man replied looking straight into the distance. "Some say he's a funny guy. Others say…he loves to look at the ocean."

Being the jokester he was, he was none other than Carlos himself. He introduced himself to Sherry as he was somewhat familiar with the name "Birkin." He hasn't seen a Raccoon City survivor or a S.T.A.R.S. member since fleeing with Barry Burton and Jill Valentine on a helicopter from the infected city. Sherry wanted to talk elsewhere like his house or something where things were not as distracting like the water. He accompanied her back to his apartment home just down the beach. The inside of his apartment had a very Brazilian feel to it, and appropriately so since it represented his birth place. Before She flew to Brazil she researched known affiliates connected to Raccoon City. Carlos was ex-Umbrella, a part of the UBCS task force under the command of a Russian Sergeant named Nicholai Genovaef, but despite his checkered past he seemed like a really down to earth guy with a fresh start he made for himself. Both sat in his small living room covered in mess.

"I know it ain't much. I'm more of a recluse in my own home so I don't always have time to clean up."

"It's okay." Sherry told him. "I actually came here under the request of National Security."

"Segurança Nacional. Lady, if this is an interrogation."

"Mr. Oliveira, I can assure you this isn't." She stopped him mid-sentence. "Do you remember a temple in Norway?"

"I know some Norwegian piadas, but I don't understand."

"There was a file I found based on an infiltration mission back on March 18, 2005. It said there was a temple called "Kurinthian" and a connection to Wesker."

"Didn't that bastard die four years ago in a volcano or something? Look, ever since Raccoon City I was out of a job. I was lucky to get mercenary work to put _pão_ on my table."

"But do you remember "Kurinthian"? Mysterious deaths not done by humans? Damien Walsh?"

"What is this about? You flew all this way to ask me of a mission I hardly remember? No offense, but I don't owe your department anything. I work on the client's dime, not the government's." He said out of frustration. "Thanks for stopping by."

Sherry felt he was deflecting on the sore details of his last mission. His spooked expression as soon as he heard of the temple said it all. His experience changed him in some way. Her time back in Raccoon City was one of frightening images when she was a little girl. Like many lost souls who survived the T-Virus outbreak, it scarred them for life, made them think twice about the world and how can any monster of higher power do such a thing to the human race. She spoke of how she was infected with the G-Virus and her newfound powers of accelerated healing. Carlos didn't want to listen about his involvement as an Umbrella Operative; hence one of the reasons why he went back to his home in Brazil to live in seclusion. Since Sherry was desperate in finding out where Damien was, she showed Carlos an example of her healing ability. She noticed a machete hanging above the kitchen walkway; a trinket gained to remind him where he came from. No one was in their right state of mind; Sherry had developed a bit of a reckless nature since China. She stared at him for two quick seconds before running into the kitchen and taking the machete off its hinges.

"What the hell you think you're doing?!" Carlos demanded to know.

"Look, we don't know each other and I'm sorry for barging in like this. But you're going to give me cooperation one way or the other."

"Little girl, just take it easy." He tried reasoning with her. "You seem stressed. Put down the machete so we can talk."

"I don't know what the hell I'm doing. You familiar with the G-Virus?"

"Never faced it, why?"

Suddenly, the long horizontal slit on her right arm demonstrated blood streaming down from it, but before it made a mess Carlos noticed her skin closing up the wound in a blink of an eye.

"Oh meu deus. I've seen deformed bastardos in my employment but nothing like this." Carlos said in astonishment.

"Raccoon City changed us. We had small parts to play back then. It made us who we are today." She said putting the machete on his coffee table. "I'm sorry Carlos... I don't know why I had to show you that."

"How did you?"

"My body, it adapted to the virus and no mutation came along with it."

"You can't get hurt?"

"Besides my pride right now, I'm still breathing. I took too much of your time. I'll wash your machete and be on my way."

As Sherry made her way into the kitchen to look for a wash cloth, Carlos stepped in with some reawakened knowledge about the temple; _his_ words when he brought it up. She wiped the blood off the machete and gave it back to him. That was when he told her about Damien; they met under extreme circumstances. There was an inside earthquake happening within the temple itself. He was chasing a lead onto something big though his past drinking was barely helping him remember what that mission was. Part of the temple nearly collapsed onto some small caves that housed creatures unknown to the rest of the world. Carlos managed to knife one, but didn't take the time to examine its' origins because of Damien and two other people at his side.

Before realizing both Damien and co. were friendlies, he mistook them for B.O.W.s covered in shadow. He had already developed a perfectionist attitude over the years, and letting his prey go was the farthest thing from his mind. He also recalled solving a big puzzle with Damien to reach a trophy room of sorts that was another clue as to who was running things in the temple. From that point on he went his separate ways he thought, didn't join him for the rest of the mission. Then one source popped into his head and told Sherry to wait in the living room. When he came back out he had an old paper clipping about the events in Norway. It was similar to the online article she found.

"Do you think he died in the temple." Sherry asked? "On a police record I found, it talked of a robbery he and some his friends did a few weeks before his jail sentence was carried out off the Venezuelan border."

"Venezuela huh; must've stolen something valuable to be sent out of the country like that. Ok, he said in confusion, an out of the blue place to send a delinquent to. I don't think he shared his personal life when I met him."

"He was there because one of the patients at the hospital he raided in Denver was an ex-marine discharged from severe injuries. My guess is this guy still had strong connections to the corp. and wanted to give him another chance."

"Beats jail I suppose. Apart from what I told you I don't know where he would be now."

"So you don't think he's dead?"

"Does it matter? It was a dark time. So dark, Raccoon City felt like a vacation spot than a nightmare. You want the whole story; I suggest looking for Damien himself. If he lived in Colorado have your boss put an APB or something to track him down."

"I'll be sure to give my boss a call. You've been a big help, Mr. Oliveira." She said putting her hand out for a handshake.

"Call me Carlos." He replied shaking her hand. "Always a pleasure to meet a survivor from Raccoon City. Take care now."

Sherry left his apartment and called Adrien to check into Denver for affiliated addresses linked to Damien. She was then ordered to linger there for a while until he had his people find a fixed location. There was still no reply from Jake, and no reply from her making Adrien think something got her tongue. She looked at the water one last time and finally got a call from Jake.

"Saved by the bad ass." She said in relief.

_"Aw, you makin me blush. Where're you at?"_

"I'm in Natal. The beaches here look amazing."

_"Maybe we could go for a midnight dip when our fucking jobs give us a break."_

"Got that right. What's wrong; another contract?"

_"Yeah but the pay is shit. I already got my 30k from the job I just finished here."_

"How about a bite to eat; as soon as I find a good restaurant I'll text you."

_"No need. I already found us a perfect spot. There's a forest with a helluva view we can eat together. I'll send ya the coordinates."_

After a few seconds, her phone popped up directions to a vast landscape called the Atlantic Forest. She followed the directions and came to a clearing that was not made for driving distance. As she got out she was introduced to another beautiful location.

Despite being in Brazil on assignment, she was kind of enjoying herself in taking in some of the sights. Jake texted her knowing he was close by and she went into the forest. The Atlantic inhabitants around the area were friendly and kept to themselves. Suddenly, she saw something moving in the trees; Sherry thought it was another animal so she kept going. Then suddenly, her eyes were covered by human hands. She put on a smirk.

"Guess who?"

"Jake!" She shouted in excitement and hugged him and soon kissed him after that.

"Whoa, this past year has been long."

"Still wearing black I see." Sherry said with a smile.

"Hey, my father may be a psycho, but at least he had style. I changed into something casual after my last job."

"You look a lot like him though, with the shades and all." Se spoke with concern.

"Hey, he tried to assure her, I'm still here because you're the one who kept me alive. See, he said taking the shades off, I'm still me."

"I know. So what's for dinner? I'm starving!"

Both went to a spot he picked out to set up camp. It brought them to a cliff overlooking old trees and bright blue skies to shed light on their reunion. It's been a year and a half since they've seen each other; life of a merc and National Security employee had alot of global cleaning from the C-Virus outbreak. Neither one has gotten a vacation or a breather the entire time. However, with the remnants of the virus gone into hiding from energy deprivation, things have settled down in their professions and were able to enjoy each other's company over some _empadinhas de palmito: _pastry pies that were filled with shrimp, onions, and other delicious ingredients.

Back when he was a merc in South America for a while, he would use to get a plate of empadinhas with a glass of batidas; a refreshing beverage of passion fruit and sugar for energy. On the down times between contracts he would have a meal of that, and it felt like he wasn't living off a feeding hand. It reminded him of the days where he can take a contract and not go hungry because the pay was more than adequate. Then again, food was cheaper back when he started out and at this point in his life he had enough money for five star status meals. However, he appreciated comfort food just the same, especially when being in the comfort of Sherry. They were taking in the nature of the Atlantic Forest; she kept going over in her mind whether or not to tell him what she found about the other Wesker. He found out about his father the hard way when both were captured in China so it didn't really make much of a difference. She put down her drink and told him about the file.

"There's something I have to tell you. You may not like it."

"What's up?" He asked as he was finishing up his plate?

"I was looking through some old files and came across something about a mission in Norway. It…has a connection to another Wesker."

"Ah great; the plot thickens on my family tree. Who is he my lost brother?"

"I don't know. It said he was a child progeny of Ozwell E. Spencer: one of the only Wesker children besides your father who became a superior human being. A lot of the article was removed after I gave it a second glance. One of the survivors was Damien Walsh; only other things I could find was a temple in Norway called "Kurinthian" and a series of murders that happened there."

"Sounds like another fucked up relative." Jake sighed.

"Jake, if he's still alive he needs to be stopped. I read alot about this Spencer guy. He had been working on a virus that's supposed to make B.O.W.s immortal. It screams "bullshit" I know, but there were other files from Chris's mission at Spencer's estate that say otherwise."

"Heh, Redfield. Did you know he went bat shit crazy when he got back from China? His boy scout partner was killed in the oil field we were held in."

"He's just going through a tough time. It's a curse for him to lose people he respected. Piers seemed like a good guy."

"More like a pain in the ass when I first met him." He said finishing his drink.

"Jake!" She shouted.

"What; why are we talking about him? Redfield already gave me "the talk" about my father from the time he knew him, to when he shot a rocket in his face, and flew away in a chopper as my father was melting in a fucking volcano. Only thing I regret was not being there to see it."

"I'm sorry for bringing him up." Sherry said.

"Don't worry about it. Like I said, he gave me the cold truth. I moved on from there."

The mood simmered back to the way it was between them as they finished up their meals.

As sun down was drew closer to setting, the exhaustion from Sherry's flight suddenly caught up with her and passed out on Jake's lap. It was about a three sleep until Jake got a call about a job in Nicaragua. Sherry woke up in the early hours of the evening to find him packing his stuff for his new contract. She understood to an extent; despite the awkward moment they had she felt good seeing him again. As they were packing up their stuff she noticed two missed calls from Adrien. She needed a ride back to a clearing outside the forest so he offered to take her back via motorcycle. When they reached the clearing, Sherry got off and said their goodbyes from a short lived vacation.

"We should really do this more often. It's a nice change from killing for ass holes."

"I had fun too." She said. "Be safe."

"Always have super girl." Jake said giving her a wink and driving off to his destination.

Sherry got in the rental car and called Adrien. He wasn't too happy from the missed calls but he found a fixed location on Damien. It turned out he didn't travel very far after Norway. Adrien also found out where he lived in Lakewood. He had a part time job as a pastry maker in Wild Flours Confections. After that, he worked in a car wash for five months, and after that he drifted off the grid. But for the most part, he didn't get into any trouble. At least there was one thing Sherry ruled out from the article; Damien did not die in the temple. Adrien also brought up some medical records about his mental stasis. It was one of the requirements from the chosen delinquents to send them to the hospital for a full physical and psychiatric work-up, both before and after the mission it seemed.

The recent entry came from March 25, 2005. Damien was declared traumatized by the events in the Norway mission but was by no means insane or a threat to others. He was kept under a 24 hour observation as a precaution, and he remained motionless for the entire time in bed. Here was the real kicker; mentally he was just exhausted from what he had to endure to clear his record. Physically, for a time anyway, he was slowly dying from a huge scratch that extended from his lower stomach to the middle of his left breast. Three claw like scratches, made diagonal from a hospital picture attached to a counselor's report by the name of Julissa Hemsworth. Those were the few details he was able to pull up on his end. He then wanted to know about her talk with Carlos.

"He claimed he didn't remember much about the mission; just that they met in extreme circumstances and he helped him solve a puzzle to reach a trophy room."

_"Anything else?"_

"Aside from Denver, he wasn't much of a help. Although he did have a gut feeling Damien wasn't dead either. Guess I'll find out soon."

_"When's your next flight back here?"_

"Tomorrow morning, around 5:15 I think." She replied. "I'll let you know when I board the plane."

"Fair enough," he agreed, "and Agent Birkin, when I call you, I expect you to answer your phone. I took a big leap of faith on this hunch of yours. If this lost story has a connection to the Wesker child, we must remain on top of whatever information we can find. I don't think the world can enter into another catastrophe after just scraping out of the one we're in now."

"I understand sir. My phone was low on power so I was charging it. I'll see you back at the office."

After hanging up she stretched herself, and gave a huge sigh about what was to become of this story. As she drove to back to her hotel she kept going over how Wesker can have any siblings after Albert died in Africa. She has only heard the name Alex on one other occasion from a news report about the downfall of China's Neo-Umbrella facility. The guy talking about it was a senator from Chicago named Alexander Rothstein. At the time she only caught a glimpse of the news stream at National Security, said something about a recovery plan of Neo-Umbrella's resources and use them as test subjects for a legit science experiment in Pennsylvania.

There were a few possibilities in her head, save for the Chicago senator. Back at the hotel, she researched Rothstein's name to see if there was a picture of what he looked like. Alexander didn't look anything like Jake or Albert Wesker, but someone who might be suitable for a position of power. She took a picture of him on her phone and kept it in case Damien recognized him. It would rule out the mystery of what he looked like. Afterwards, she went to bed and got an early head start in the morning so she wouldn't miss her flight.

14


	2. Part I: The Preparation

Temple of Kurinthian

Part I: The Preparation

The state of Colorado has seen its' share of snow storms, avalanches, and certain delinquents. But it can also be very quiet to those who want to be left alone. In an abandoned apartment complex near the town of Lakewood, laid a recluse individual who hasn't really seen the world in over nine years, not since a traumatic experience changed him. He was none other than Damien Walsh; 26 years old without a care in the world, mostly because he looked like an old man in rags living in pale walls, and drinking stale liquor to remind him he was still alive on this planet. He was a mess in his own right. There would be nights he would dream, sometimes harder than others to find some positivity in his life.

What happened in Norway affected him more times than he could fathom; horrors that were not for the human eyes to witness. Back then, if there was anybody he could relate to in his situation it would be those who survived Raccoon City. Then again, he would probably get killed before ever meeting one of them. Aside from lack of sleep or hygiene, he also has a physical condition on his chest. A severe three scars that if he got slashed any deeper his heart would have sliced in two from the inside. and because of his condition he would get nightmares circulating around the Kurinthian Temple.

One being a recurrence that out of the five participants who entered the temple, only three remained alive to keep on moving: an 18 year old named Cara Moreno, 26 year old Terrell Amaro, as well as Damien himself. In their past lives they've had ways of surviving when family and trust played no part in the equation. They didn't like each other at first, especially another participant named Monica, but gained a mutual respect over time to get over their new found fears and get their records wiped clean of past felonies. The nightmare brought Damien back to when all three were on separate bridges of sorts, and had to get through hordes of undead creatures. The kind of creatures you only see in CGI based films, the ones viewers look down upon and say they look cheap and fake on screen.

The temple instilled fear by unleashing undead creatures in the shadows. Damien barely had any ammo in his pistol, and only had a knife for defensive measures. Not only were the odds against him, he was feeling disoriented by the change of temperature from dampness to seething hot. They had to cross the bridge to reach another area of the temple; undead came from their six and made things difficult for them since the bridges were not well put together. Any shift in the bridge's weight would lessen its' durability to stay intact. Not only did they had to cross slowly, but on Damien's side as he was talking to Cara via radio she had a twisted ankle and half a clip of an AR 15 rifle. He kept trying to calm her down.

"_Stay calm,_ _Cara_._ We're almost through this." _He said as scarab beetles came out of the roof of the temple. _"Jesus Christ."_

"_T, how you holdin up, buddy?"_ Cara asked over the radio.

"_I'll live." _He replied before shooting an undead. "_Throat's killing me. Uh...we should move."_

"_There's bugs coming out of the ceiling. Don't let them touch you." _Damien said.

They've made it to the other side with their hearts beating inside their throats. Terrell made it by the skin of his teeth. They found themselves looking at a huge hall that appeared to be a room of great importance. Then suddenly, everything went dark; the heat around them turned to cold, and eerie sounds went amiss. The undead horde stopped making noise and for one, long minute all three found themselves holding their breath. In the silence of it all, Damien felt something slither past his back, something scaly and slimy at the same time.

Cara and Terrell felt it too. That was when one scream caused him to wake up from the nightmare. He woke up in his beaten up apartment, with sweat soaking the couch sheets and drool dripping off his unshaven face. He gave a moment to gather himself before getting up to go to the bathroom and wash his face. In the small, circular mirror he noticed his soaked, blue T-shirt revealed the diagonal scars on him, still stitched up yet causing panic attacks at unpredictable times. Before he was done, he thought he heard something run past him, like a swift shadow or something. He slowly walked out of the bathroom with nothing out of the ordinary. His heart then jumped when three bangs were done to his door.

"Who is it?" He shouted.

"_It's Jeeves; open up." _He said as Damien dragged his feet and opened the door.

"Where have you been? Everybody's worried."

"I'm taking a sick day, Jeeves. Come back and lecture me tomorrow." He said walking away from the doorway.

"This is the fifth day this week you haven't been at the wash. The boss has been riding my ass to get you back there." Jeeves said as Damien was stretching. "You ok; you look paler than usual?"

"Rough night." He said sitting back on his couch.

"Maybe I can help." Jeeves suggested entering the apartment.

"Why, so you can skim money off my pay stub like you did the last two times?"

"One of those times was for lunch. I asked for your permission that time. Look, I'm worried about you; so is Mandy, Rocko."

"I'll be at work tomorrow, Jeeves. You can then sit on your plastic chair and kiss up to the boss like you always do while I break my back doing _your_ job." Damien said with frustration.

"You think you're the only one who's went up shit's creek? Look at me when I'm talking to you." He demanded as Damien looked at him with glazed eyes. "I know about your checkered past and what you had to do to be a free man. But as long as you're with the working class doing "back breaking" labor for $6.25 a day, don't think you stand above us common folk. You hear me?!"

"Wow." Damien chuckled. "Did you rehearse that with your sex doll or did you use my money to pay someone else to tell you that?"

"The fuck you say?" He asked before grabbing Damien by his soak t-shirt.

Damien took offense by someone grabbing him. He swiftly acted by grabbing Jeeves' arms and kneed him in the stomach. Jeeves was a slender guy with a receding hairline so he didn't have any fat to protect him. The impact of his knee caused him to cough up some blood. Jeeves got pissed and began throwing punches until Damien grabbed his right arm and put it into an uncomfortable place, being on the verge of it breaking.

"You're right; I'm not above you. I'm not above anyone, but I'll be damned if I'm going to be bullied by a selfish ass kisser like you."

"Who do you think you are?" He struggled as he heard a bone cracking in his arm.

"Someone who wants an exit, and car washing isn't the answer. Now I'm going to let you go. You tell boss man I'll be at work tomorrow, and we don't go through this again. You get me?"

Damien let him go soon after. Before Jeeves left his apartment he looked back at him as if he was a shell of his former self. He left with a dying need in getting his arm in a cast. Damien slammed his door and sat back on his couch while looking through an old photo album, mostly pictures of his grandmother, Agatha. She was 43 when she started raising him when his parents thought it was a mistake in having him in the first place. He was only five when he was taken in.

Agatha was the kind of person who didn't sugar coat the truth. When he was five she reenacted an entire argument she had with his parents in letting him go so they could make _their_ own lives easier. He cried due to the forcefulness of her portrayals of the parents as well as her backlash on them, but it was intentional at the time. Over the years she acted like a mom, a dad, even a bit like a drill sergeant sometimes. She acted that way because she knew kids less fortunate than Damien have made bad decisions and were paying for it with jail time…or worse.

She was a Professor of art that still sold paintings to the highest bidder at various auctions, even taught Damien how to paint. He kept some of her old works in the apartment to keep her alive; pieces that consisted of human nature as well night skies and her interpretations in what might be found above. In his eyes, she was both a hard ass and a free spirit at the same time. She was never really fond of being in love with someone else; being married to a chef with late stage Huntington's caused a great rift in their marriage. The rest of her…illustrious family tree didn't want to have anything to do with the man due to his condition.

To them, he was a liability. It made Agatha wonder why was she involved with such a selfish family; they weren't rich and weren't entitled to anything other than what they already owned. Damien kept turning the pages to when she was young to the fond memories they had spent together. Other than learning to paint in his spare time, they also went ice skating and had candy apples on occasion. Before Norway, before he started making dumb decisions, the simple things was what kept both of them going in life.

Today was August 13, 2014; her birthday was five months prior. It clicked in his head that he hasn't been to her gravestone that entire time. Since he had one last day off before going back to the car washing job, he decided he was going to pay his grandmother a visit. As he was putting on his jacket and heading out the door, he suddenly heard a voice that was thought to be never heard again.

"_Isn't that adorable?" A_ female voice said echoing in the apartment. _"A man with such compassion to a dead relative is quite emotional to watch."_

He shut the door and looked up at the ceiling. So far nothing he thought, maybe it was one of the tenants next door or something. He searched the bathroom, nothing out of the ordinary, looked out his bedroom window; an old couple arguing. He's been under the impression for the last fourteen months he was hearing voices, even went so far as to ask the tenants next to his apartment room to tone down the noise. It would have turned into a fight if the landlord wasn't there to break it up.

Within those months it hasn't been a big deal; a sensual sigh here and a cold touch feeling on the back of his neck there. The abnormal sounds went in and out for awhile. He then went to the center of his living room and closed his eyes and listened to the sounds that were going on at that moment. No other voices were heard; so he went over to the door and there stood a woman of his past. She had a smile of a shark with eyes that can pierce a man's soul, pull it out, and manipulate it into her plaything.

"What's the matter, Damien?" She smiled as he stepped back and almost had a panic attack. "I thought you would be thrilled to see the likes of me."

"No, he shook his head, this isn't real. This isn't real!"

"What _is_ real, Damien?" She asked entering the apartment, that you and your foul mouthed brats exterminated me and my sister, or the horrors you found in the temple were too much for you to handle?"

"This isn't happening. She can't be here; this was resolved nine years ago. My record was clear; I got better, my life was normal."

"Good grief, listen to yourself! What year are we in now? Don't answer, she said putting both her index fingers on the opposite ends of her forehead, oh I got it! The future. There is nothing "normal" about life anymore. I should know."

Damien felt a swift kick and was sent into the kitchen, breaking his one person dining table. He tried to get up, but the severe scratches on his chest prevented him to do so. Laying on his right side in a dimly lit kitchen, he looked up and immediately saw her face with a piece of sharp wood in her left palm.

"Did I hurt you?" She said placing her right palm on his cheek. "Aw."

"Don't touch me!" He screamed pushing her "invisible" hand away.

His hand went right through her arm. Suddenly, she smacked him against the kitchen sink and was picked up and thrown back into the living room. Damien still couldn't comprehend what was happening to him; his mind felt so closed up he didn't know whether to bang his head against the wall or jump out the window. She walked into the living room and told him the specifics of his chest injury.

"See the scars; I left my mark on you a long time ago, and since then you have been keeping me in a medicated coma." She said before swiftly standing in front of him, feeling his scratches. "But you're out of help, and I am short on my leniency. So here's what's going to happen; I'm going to be sticking around for awhile."

"I'll just get more medicine. It's worked before, and it'll work even more."

"Keep telling yourself that, Damien." She said smiling and backing away and slowly fading. "_Knock knock…"_

Two loud bangs were done at his door; it could only mean one thing. George the landlord. He's been running his apartment complex in Denver for over twelve years, and has a tendency to bang on the door twice which was a sign for tenants to pay the rent. Damien got up right away and headed over to the door. If there was one thing he learned in living there, is that if George had to knock a third time, the door would fall off its hinges and would start breaking things to look for rent money. He opened the door and greeted him.

"George, he said, afternoon."

"Rent's due." George said holding out his hand. "Pay up!"

"Give me a minute."

He went over to his bedroom and took out a wad of cash he's been saving for rent. Ever since he moved in he has trained himself to survive on tap water and a TV dinner here and there. The rent was $800 a month. He then limped back to George to hand him the money. He started counting it; another pattern Damien has learned from him.

"You're shy of $84 here. What does this tell me, Damien? You don't want to live here anymore?"

"No, it's not that. It's," he said before getting cut off.

"Close the door." He said entering his apartment. "You got a problem with the middle class, Mr. Walsh. You believe."

"Sir, if you let me explain."

"Don't interrupt me." He demanded. "You believe that you are special, becoming some sort of war hero from Norway and got grants to go to the best schools. Obviously you mistake my integrity and good looks. This complex is one of the top demanding places in the state; because every tenant is grateful they have a place to stay. When one tenant doesn't show that appreciation, the entire complex is in jeopardy."

"May I speak?" Damien asked before George giving him permission. "I'm happy here; really, I am. I'm in a good place in my life for once because I didn't go back to jail or worse; working for the Government. Work has been stingy on pay these days so it gets harder to save for when the rent comes do."

"I assume that douchebag character who came here earlier is a co-worker of yours?"

"Douchebag" would be an understatement, sir. But yeah, he and I work at the same car wash downtown."

"I see." He said with a little sarcasm. "The time has come I give you an ultimatum, Mr. Walsh. Either you pay your rent on time from this day forth, or I suggest you start packing and looking for cardboard boxes to live in." He concluded as he was about to walk out of Damien's apartment.

"Is that a threat, sir?"

"Abso-fuckin-lutely wise ass. You think you can ask for a place to stay, show a couple scars and think you can earn my respect?! You "war heroes" are nothing but dog shit under my shoe. I should toss you out for speaking out of line, but you have thirty-six hours to pay up the rest."

Damien showed surprise on his expression for the extension. He nodded "yes" to the terms as George slammed his apartment door. George was not overly fond of alot of people: kids, loud animals, self-important jerks, trouble makers, they all leave him with a sour taste in his mouth. He thinks everyone who has a life and is doing fine is either an asshole or incompetent; an anti-socialist Damien once said_. _After two intense awakenings he just wanted to get out of the apartment to go visit his grandmother's grave. He made his way to the parking garage and unlocked his dark brown Firebird; it was older than some of the cars there but to him it added character: beaten up yet still going. He drove out into the afternoon Denver sun and went to the cemetery.

A plane made its landing back in the states. Sherry got off and took a cab back to the National Security office with files on the Norway mission in hand. She called Adrien to let him know she was coming; on the ride back she took another gander at the files. No matter how many times she read the fabricated stuff, it intrigued her more and more. At first it was because of the Wesker connection, but after meeting Carlos Oliveira in Brazil and reading what happened in the Kurinthian Temple, she couldn't wait to see what Adrien found as well. She ran inside feeling overly anxious to only find Adrien in the conference room with a couple board members. They had a Skype connection to another important figure. Adrien introduced him.

"Agent Birkin welcome back. How did the little retreat go?"

"I thought it was a two day retreat we granted?" One board member asked.

"It was, Sherry replied to cover for Adrien, I'm just saving the extra day when there's nothing to do. So what do we got?"

"Sherry, I would like you to meet the next Commander in Chief, Matthew Keyes."

"It's a pleasure to meet you sir." She said before sitting down.

"Likewise." Matthew said. "Agent Kennedy spoke highly of you and your efforts in Lanshiang, China. That was one hell of a scrape you and Jake Muller went through."

"If I may sir, the word "scrape" would be undermining the citizens in China for the pain and anguish that was brought upon them."

"That I have no doubt, Agent Birkin. Adrien here tells me you two have something to show me, something that would put an end to bioterrorism for good."

Sherry laid out all the files indicating links to Damien Walsh and his involvement in Norway when he was in his mid-teens. When the name "Wesker" came up there was a sudden uproar within the conference room, with some of the board members putting Sherry under duress for searching top classified information. Suddenly, the Vice President chimed in to break hostility in the room and wanted to hear Sherry's explanation in how she came by BSAA files in the first place. It was one of the things he learned from his predecessor, Adam Benford. Anything related to the Raccoon City incident or the outbreaks that followed after would be a step up in preventing another catastrophe. Of course, he didn't let anyone know of those specifics.

"Truth be told sir, the one article I found online wasn't sent to me by the BSAA. I was finishing up damage reports on C-Virus infested areas when the article about Norway popped up. It says here, she said as she was reading the article, that on March 18, 2005 a group of five troubled individuals were sent to an old temple called "Kurinthian". The mission was more of a boot camp routine ran by an ex-marine Sergeant named Samuel Travers. It claims that he brought them to the Venezuelan border by plane, and had them run through extensive training. The rest of the article was blacked out, other than a conversation I had with a soldier in Brazil who went to Norway as well."

"_This_ is the reason we granted you company retreat, to talk to old mercs you've never heard about?" One board member asked. "You're taking on water, Agent Birkin."

"What did this Merc tell you when you met him?" Matthew asked.

"His name is Carlos. Only small details."

"Any details would be considered useful when it comes to viral outbreaks." Matthew implied.

"He…had a different purpose in going to the temple, helping Damien and the others solve a certain puzzle and… I know Raccoon City isn't a good subject to talk about but."

"We all know what happened in that year. You don't need to bring up past wounds!" One member shouted.

"Agent Birkin, please wrap this up." Matthew said.

"Before the article was blacked out, I managed to get a look at the source behind the mysterious killings that took place outside Kurinthian. The name was "Wesker," one of the few surviving manufactured children created by Ozwell E. Spencer."

"Spencer." Matthew said to himself. "That name has crossed my desk for links directed to a backlog of history with Bio Organic Weapons. And do you think this Damien Walsh has the full story?"

"We have a fixed location on his whereabouts sir." Adrien pointed out. "We know he's alive and well in Denver, Colorado and should have an exact address within an hour or so."

"Mr. Vice President, are you really going to ratify a bunch of incoherent junk by an inexperienced freak and a misguided Advisor? We have bigger issues to squash in the southern region of the globe. There are still C-Virus infectees there that need vaccines for."

"What are you implying, Mr. Dante?" Matthew asked. "Are you referring to your own colleagues as crappy liars? Look, gentlemen, ladies, my decision is this. We have spent billions on half the population trying to bring the world back to some normalcy. Neo-Umbrella is in shambles and our men and women in the BSAA have fought tirelessly in bringing us out of the brink from Derek Simmons' mess. If we're going to have any chance for a calmer future, we can't leave any loose end untied. Agent Birkin, Chief Advisor, as soon as you have Walsh's address you have the green light to go find him."

"Thank you sir." Sherry said.

"We will get on it. Thank you sir." Adrien said.

The meeting adjourned with tension stilled stifling up the room. Both went down to the meeting hall of the agency to see how computer analysts were doing on finding Damien's address. They had their people en route to Denver and should have the address within an hour or two. As far as facial recognition went they only had Damien's police record when he was seventeen. To Adrien, he thought Damien was either living like a pariah or he cut himself off from the rest of the world. Apart from Norway, Damien didn't have much ambition to make a name for himself; no girlfriend, no friendly affiliates, not even a sibling to boot. His grandmother Agatha was the only one identified as next of kin. As the analysts were drawing closer to an accurate address, Sherry pulled Adrien to the side and showed a picture of the Chicago Senator.

"Who's this?" Adrien asked.

"This is Alexander Rothstein, a senator from Chicago."

"Why am I looking at a random politician?"

"From the picture's source, it talked about him owning a few of Neo-Umbrella's shares before it collapsed. He found a way to get ahold of the share money and kept it in an unknown account before anyone found out. Now, why would a "random" politician have money on the side from Neo-Umbrella?"

"Politicians are crooked, Sherry." Adrien tried explaining. "It's 2014 and we're still living in a world of corrupt politics. I'm surprised the VP took time out of his schedule to talk to us, let alone approve this goose chase approach."

"He was Adam Benford's #2. Matthew did say if he was elected President he would follow in Adam's example and do whatever it takes to end bioterrorism. He did address the public about Raccoon City after all. You ask me, we got his attention. We should keep it that way."

"Alright Sherry, you made your point. Send the photo to me along with the source and I'll take a look when I'm able."

She left the meeting hall and went back to her office desk to check for messages. On her computer, it indicated that Claire tried to contact her seven hours ago. Her voicemail stated that her and TerraSave have been making great progress in helping children from Zimbabwe returning to normal with C-Virus vaccine, and that she should have some time in her slot to come and visit her. However though, it wouldn't be a very welcoming visit, not as much as Claire hoped for. Ever since Sherry was infected by her father's G-Virus the Government has been touchy in experimenting on her for future viral vaccines, but over the years that has been less than successful.

For a woman reaching thirty, she wasn't all that keen on staying a guinea pig forever. In fact, it was Chief Security Advisor Grey who spoke out and wrote a letter of exoneration for any future physicals done to her unless it was standard procedure. Claire concluded that she had a friend who was an old S.T.A.R.S. member looking into Sherry's recent blood draw for any abnormalities she put. The voicemail ended after that, didn't delve into too much detail on her condition. It could be inconclusive she thought, but before the changeover in management at National Security she was developing minor symptoms like dizziness, the ability to stay awake for days on end, even vomited blood at one point, which led to sending a blood sample to Claire. After she sent the photo of Rothstein and the online article about his biography, Adrien came to get her with news of Damien's address.

"Greenway Apartments; it's near Cornerstone's jurisdiction. The landlord, George Accio confirmed he's been living there since he was 23, hardly ever leaves except for work, which the way he put it he hasn't been to his car washing job in the past week."

"Good, that was fast. When do I meet him? She asked.

"That's another thing." Adrien said with concern sitting on the side of Sherry's desk. "I think you really should take a breather on this. I'll go to Denver myself and confirm your hunch about his story being connected to Alex Wesker."

"With all due respect sir, I can handle Damien. I have put alot on this hunch to begin with." She said before almost fainting.

"Sherry!" He shouted as he caught her. "Get her some water!"

Sherry barely raised her right hand and pointed to one of her desk drawers. She mentioned some type of medicine she takes to keep her immune system in check, thanks to Claire's hospital contact that was associated with TerraSave. Adrien opened the bottle and got out three orange tablets as he helped her swallow them. With her healing abilities still resourceful, she regained some of her leg strength and reassured him she would be able to take the trip to Denver.

"Still a stubborn piece of work." Adrien chuckled.

"Then I'm making progress. I was uptight when I started working here." She replied taking a sip of water.

"Compose yourself and come by my office so we can go over the procedure in interviewing a lost soul."

"You think he's _that_ far removed from the rest of the world?"

"As far as I'm concerned, he's never been to Raccoon City. That right there he would not have had the cojones to go to a dark, abandoned temple just to clear his name. He'll be a valuable asset if he indeed knows about Alex Wesker and what he's planning."

That was the fourth collapse she had in the past year. On a solemn, windy afternoon as it took hold of the Denver area, Damien became surrounded with fresh air as he walked through the different tombstones at his town's cemetery. Normally, the respectful thing to do would be to bring flowers, but giving away $716 to an anti-social landlord put a big dent for any future expenses. However, his grandmother wasn't really a flower loving type of woman. She loved creating symbolism behind flowers in her paintings though. He reached her tombstone looking over its description.

"_Agatha Tamara Walsh. Born: April 5, 1962-March 24, 2005. A strong, positive woman to the very last seconds on this Earth. Forever devoted to the graces of life. A guardian to one."_

She was having heart palpitations when Damien started High School. Her part time job as a college Art Professor wasn't covering the expenses of her prescription drugs. Prices in the pharmacy she used to go to were raised so the owner would have his ass covered and prevent foreclosure. While she struggled with pharmacy regulations, in the middle of his Freshman Year he started lashing out at people, mostly those who talk negative about their parents and how pathetic their so called lives have been; typical teenage drivel. He got sent to detention twice because of it, but his grandmother could do nothing more than firm lectures about the error of his actions. Right then Damien knew something was wrong with her, and he himself knew better above all else.

One morning before she drove off to the university for a Saturday class, Damien got a call from her doctor confirming a tumor growing in the back of one of her heart valves. It was too early to tell; he dropped the phone and wished he had been wrong all along. In his mind, the news hit him harder because his only relative and mentor may be dying from a heart disease she was keeping from him. That was another thing; she _never_ hid things from him. She was an expressionist in full. He got on one knee and placed his left hand over her gravestone.

"Hi grandma, I know I'm late this year. I'm sorry. Five months right? It's been way too long, and I'm barely getting by with my…well, let's just say it's been happening more often, losing you and living in a shit apartment. Pardon my French; I shouldn't even complain. Heh, you'd smack my head if my mouth opened ungrateful words. I still think about that night when I was seventeen, picked up for stealing meds with idiots who just wanted to score drugs.

I just want you to know it wasn't your fault; none of it. You told me to accept your own fate and live on to find a new lease on life. You know, I always wondered about who you were. I mean, you raised me right, said the right things, always told me the truth even when I didn't ask. Are you god or something?" He chuckled to himself. "I-I'm rambling too much; oh there's something else I wanted to say. I wasn't able to buy flowers because money's tight right now, but its' gonna be fall soon so I thought I placed this scarf to keep you warm."

It was tradition for him to visit her gravestone every year, and leave behind a keepsake which was either a few kind words or a trinket to liven up her grave. He laid it on thick this year to make up for lost time. Afterwards, he would say a prayer for God to continue to keep her safe, but this year he couldn't get any more words out. His throat was slowly closing up and seeing her grave put more of an emotional toll on him these past nine years. At one point he wanted to stop, to believe she was still out there somewhere living the luxuries of retirement.

He sent kind spirits her way. Before leaving the cemetery there was a woman paying her respects one row of gravestones ahead of him. It was too far to tell; vision for him hasn't been so great because of his injury. From behind she looked very familiar; then his blackberry went off and looked at it to see who it was. When he looked up the lady disappeared, no more than two seconds later. The call was from George.

"What's up, George?" He asked.

_"Hey, listen uh...about our last conversation. I'm just going through some things, you know how it is. Nothing personal against you."_

"It's fine I...guess. I'll get you the rest of the rent money as soon as I can. I promise."

_"What are you talkin about? I got your money right here on my doorstep. In fact, this dough covers the next five months. I don't know where you got this cash, but it's good to see you keeping yer word."_

"Yeeeaahh." He replied playing along. "I've been saving up. Just going by what you said, keep your cash in your closet, not the bank."

_"Ha, for once yer learnin."_ He chuckled. _"Also, there's two people in suits askin for you. I told them I didn't know where you were."_

"Did they say what they want?"

_"Just that they need to speak to you urgently or sumthin. Should I put them on the phone?"_

"No, I had to run some errands but I'm coming back now."

_"Is there sumthin yer not tellin me, Walsh? What are two suits from National Security waitin here for?"_

"Your guess is as good as mine. Do me a favor, make sure they don't tear down my room before I get back."

_"That's my job. See ya soon."_

Damien hung up the phone as he quickly pondered who was waiting for him at his apartment. He hasn't gotten into any trouble in a long time aside from a few drunken stupors in his early twenties, but that was about it. Before heading back to his car, he took one last look at the row of graves he saw a lady at in the distance. No one else was there except for him. He drove away with nerves taking weight on his heart; if it were only that kind of feeling, and not the sharp pains he has endured over the years. First hearing voices; now seeing pain in corporeal form from his hallucinogenic point of view. Luckily, the woman who claimed to have left her mark on him didn't appear to throw him off course from the road. As he drove into the parking garage he took the old elevator up to the second floor of the five story complex. Waiting for his rich tenant, the silence made George nervous from the guys in suits so he tried to liven up the mood.

"You gentlemen like my humble abode? Took me a few years and some elbow grease to put this complex together." He said as the awkward silence grew. "It wasn't easy. Um...hey I made some chili earlier; I'm a _mean_ cook when I'm not _mean_ to others heh he. (to himself) Damien, any day now."

The elevator doors opened, and Damien came out seeing the two guys in suits waiting outside his door. George just stood there nervous as the others introduced themselves.

"Mr. Walsh?" One suit asked.

"Yeah that's me. Who are you guys?" He asked in confusion.

"Mr. Walsh, we work for National Security, under the guise of our new Chief Advisor, Adrien Grey. We need you to come with us."

"What's this about?" Damien asked with concern.

"Details are strictly classified for those who are not involved." The other suit said.

They escorted Damien out of the complex, almost by force and leaving George in question as to whether or not he was in deep trouble, and would have to ban him from the premises if it was the former. Damien made it clear to them he was going to go peacefully. Outside was a velvet black car with the National Security symbol on the passenger side. He sat in the back and before he knew it the car drove away to an open road, en route to wherever he was going to be taken. He looked at the outside from his window, felt the cool wind blowing in his face.

To him, it felt like years since he went outside, literally went outside for some fresh air. With his condition, dry mouthing medication, and a dead end job, they've all prevented him to enjoy the simple pleasures such as fresh air. He kept the window open and closed his eyes to take in the wind passing him by. Suddenly, his senses felt stripped from him, and nothing but the sharp pain from his chest began to cause him to sweat. The suit on the passenger front seat saw this and acted suspiciously; that was when the car began slowing down. Not completely, just enough to play with his mind in thinking seconds felt like days. The woman who left her mark on him, took absolute pleasure in doing that. He looked to his right and there she was sitting casually.

"You know, if you keep taking that medication I'm just going to torment you more." She said.

"Tell me something I don't...I don't know." He said as the chest pain simmered down.

"You're pathetic you know that? When are you going to accept my mark is actually a life changer for you? All you have to do is let go."

"Let go, like you did?"

"My story differs from yours, Damien. Now listen, I have a feeling these guys are taking you to...a play so to speak. You've lost touch with reality for nearly a decade and these two were once your biggest fans. It's rehearsal time at an acting studio; you mentally bring the script with you but remember certain parts and cast aside others to avoid emotional downfall. You go there, rehearse, and no matter how much you nailed your role they'll tell you to do it again, she said before her voice echoed, and again, and again."

"Jesus Christ." He said holding his head. "So, who are you in this "play" of mine?"

"See, you're improving. I'm the casting director who thinks the studio you're going to is complete horseshit. To them, you're a puppet in their clichéd circle, and would love nothing more than to be amused by your improvised slights. _My_ part is to do my best to implore you to come try out at my scene. You would say yes, she said putting her hand on his chest, and I would purge your pain into happiness."

Suddenly, one of the suits snapped his fingers and reminded him of where he was going. Turns out, it was what she said in a manner of speaking, to retell his story in what happened in Norway to a special field agent that was well known around the agency. Damien at this point didn't really have a choice in the matter; jump out the car, endure the injuries from road impact and limp back home to a life of forgetting in what put him there to begin with. Then again, maybe retelling his story would start to put things in perspective in what was going on with the world. Despite him being disconnected from it, the last piece of news he heard was that the world was going to be on cleanup duty by the BSAA and all forms of Government.

Last time he was in front of the eyes of "government" so to speak, he got a "good job" from the previous president and a plane ticket home, no compensation for his troubles or a decent meal...for a little while anyway. The driver suggested him to close his eyes since it was going to be a long drive from Denver to the agency. Damien on the other hand, tried his best to stay awake; for three hours it was a piece of cake, but after awhile the wind got annoying and shut the window up. It reached evening; he closed his eyes and brought him to a dark place to which he can only hear her voice in an angered tone.

"_Don't re-tell your story!"_

"_Can't you give me a goddamn moment's peace?! You're not going to change me so quit trying!"_

"_It's not about changing you."_

"_What're you talking about?"_

"_I've tortured you with those scars for long enough. Frankly, I am tired in convincing you."_

"_But you're not going to leave me alone?"_

"_Ha, of course not! I'm just going to have to try harder. Soon it won't be past wounds you'll contend with then. You're my progeny so to speak. You can kill anyone you wish."_

"_I assume this is the part where I beg for your mercy, cry like a two year old so you'll have to shut me up? I'm not buying into any bullshit story you jaw my ear on 'cause I got an exit strategy myself. The medicine I've been taking was only to take the edge off the scars; something stronger is heading my way. Until then, in some twisted reality, we need each other."_

"_We shall see."_

He then heard "rise and shine" from an outside voice. This slowly woke him up to a whole new environment than he was used to. He got out of the car into the crowd filling streets of Washington, looking at all angles while getting his senses back in order. Before he knew it, the National Security building over shadowed his head as all three went inside the agency. They took an elevator up to the floor where a special agent was going to take the reins after Damien was delivered. As they got to the center of operations, the Chief Security Advisor relieved them of their services and took matters from there. He met Adrien Grey, and Grey got him acquainted with the agency.

"Welcome to our base of operations." Adrien said as both shook hands. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience my guys must've put on you."

"No, it's no problem. It's a nice change of pace from Denver." Damien replied as he walked with him. "So, how long am I staying?"

"One of our top agents has some questions for you regarding the Norway mission nine years ago. If you cooperate with us, you'll be in the wind after."

"Just like that huh?"

"Don't take it as an insult, Mr. Walsh. To be honest with you, the means in how we got you here were based on a hunch. If it were any other circumstances you wouldn't be here. But I'm not letting the world fall into another catastrophe like China was."

"The C-Virus right? I haven't been keeping up with the news lately; something about a global cleanup of B.O.W.s."

"That's correct, Damien. Over the past 19 months, everyone has been on constant alert for any viral remnants my predecessor left behind. As of late, we don't have to be on watchful eyes on every corner of the world, and good time too. It will give us breathing room to concentrate on human threats in the future."

One of the analysts confirmed to Adrien about an urgent news report coming through the TV feeds in ten seconds. Both he and Damien stopped for a moment to check it out. Neo-Umbrella was presumed to be disavowed due to the events in China, as well as any future viral weaponry to be put to rest and declared crimes against humanity, against any mad scientist curious on the subject. However, China wasn't the only place the facility was stationed in, but the most crucial. Informants in the BSAA said about an additional thirteen joint facilities amongst the Northern states such as Canada, Connecticut, and some abandoned operating base with the Umbrella symbol on it in Michigan.

So far, it has been said each of them contained empty containers and zero staff to occupy them. Most of them have been shut down and were being further investigated. Then a senator from Chicago voiced his opinion on this matter, saying he was containing a lot of the shares Neo-Umbrella once had. It seemed peculiar by everybody that an ordinary senator would contain money connected to a company with a history of viral devastation. His name was Alexander Rothstein.

"_I am well aware that Neo-Umbrella was a menace to the human population. It was run by mad men with beliefs in being more than they were. They used to be men of science believe it or not since the days of the Umbrella Corporation. The Ashford family and Corporate giant, Ozwell E. Spencer, have created an empire of infinite possibilities to study other species, to create other life forms. Were they ahead of their time? Yes they were. They abused their power and a grueling end was all that waited for them. But that's all in the past now, or so we thought. We've had outbreaks from the T-Virus, G-Virus, Las Plagas, Uroboros, and of course the recent C-Virus created yet by another mad man with a heart that was for the wrong reasons. _

_The reason I am here at all is to address you about these joint facilities that seemed to be popping up around the world. I come from a long line of businessmen, of ambition, even a few mad men myself. I allow you people of Chicago to question my actions for the shares I bought from Neo-Umbrella, but before you ask I want to say this. It's been beaten like a dead horse many times before modern technology graced us. If I don't make it to my first Presidential debate, if lack of votes lead my campaign astray, the shares I bought will go to those joint divisions as health clinics and for technological advances. It is vague believe me; I'm still trying to figure out the angles myself. This is 2014; viral weaponry is too high a cost for humans to pay. Together we shall make a law that would put other mad scientists in jail for viral experimenting. Besides, umbrellas are supposed to keep you dry from the rain. Right?"_

The feed got cut off after the speech. Damien commented that he was another barbaric politician with an end game that suits his purposes only. Adrien told him about how Agent Sherry Birkin got ahold of Rothstein's photo and the story about his shares. Damien claimed he has never seen the man before, not in Norway, nowhere. Even after he asked him about the name "Alex Wesker," Damien said the name was thrown around quite a few times when he and four other delinquents were prepping for the journey to the Kurinthian Temple. Both moved on to an interrogation room where Sherry was sitting with an audio recorder dead in the center of the silver table. She got up and introduced herself.

"Mr. Walsh, thank you for coming." Sherry said shaking his hand.

"Damien, this is Agent Sherry Birkin. She will be interviewing you on the facts in Norway. I'll just leave you two to it."

"Thank you sir." She replied as he stepped out and closed the door behind him.

"Alright Agent Birkin, how did you find me?"

"Have a seat." She said before he sat down. "A news article came up in my research. It mentioned mysterious deaths outside some temple called "Kurinthian." She said turning the recorder on. "Damien, do you recognize these images?" She asked as she placed the article and some enhanced photos from it in front of him.

Taking a look at horrific photos of innocent people skewered and torn in half had him nearly sick to his stomach. He immediately recognized the undead hordes in the photos. The bodies came from various cemeteries all over Norway, and were transported to the temple for further study. At least that's what came out of Sergeant Samuel Travers' mouth anyway. He was the man who was discharged from severe injuries and one of the patients inside the hospital Damien stole from. There were alot of things about Travers Damien found weird. He used to run a camp within the corp for young trainees to go out on scavenger hunts and expeditions. Travers was also a big Indiana Jones fan, and the temple was a good place to start for he and the others. Norway was a halfway point to discovering the whereabouts of a half-crazed, old man with too much time on his hands; "Spencer" he said. Her hunch was starting to become accurate, but she wanted the full story from start to finish. Damien, surprising to her, was more than willing to do so.

"Why does that shock you?" He asked.

"No, it's-it's just that..."

"Ms. Birkin, no offense to your current commander in chief, but I didn't actually get any recognition from Norway, especially from the Vice President at that time. He basically told me I recovered half a puzzle in finding this Spencer character and sent me on a plane home. Wonder if they put my Intel to use."

"Ozwell E. Spencer was killed by a man named Albert Wesker." She replied.

"Wesker?" He asked.

"So you're familiar with Alex Wesker?"

"His name was tossed around a few times. In fact..."

Damien's stomach was growling, but it wasn't calling for food. He asked Sherry where the bathroom was and apologized for the sudden inconvenience. He dashed out of the interrogation room and ran towards the bathroom to retch in one of the stalls. Vomit went from phlegm to some strains of blood; his skin was getting paler by the second. He then checked his coat pocket for any pills to keep his stomach acids suppressed; the bottle holding four pills suddenly slipped out of his hands while his vision started to go blurry.

The pill bottle rolled out of the stall and under one of the washing sinks. His body wasn't cutting him a break any time soon, even his head felt like he was underwater. He slowly opened the stall door, and on all fours crawled to get his pills; a foot pressed on his right hand. He looked up and there she was again. She told him to stay put as she poured a glass of water from the sink; when she tilted his head back to give him the drink, she lunged the water right in his face to snap him out of the dizziness he was feeling.

"Oh, welcome back. You're slowly dying from the inside. I bet these pills barely make it tolerable." She said looking at the bottle.

"Please!" He said dry heaving as he raised his hand up to her. "I need those."

"I got a better idea." She said before swiftly kicking him upward against the wall. _"Tell_ the goddamn truth. "Your story is shit compared to what you really did in the temple."

"I got no idea what you're talk." He said before grunting painfully from his chest scars.

"The more you resist what you've been given, the more it kills you." She said in a cold manner. "I'm surprised you've lasted nine years with this. You want to make things right, tell them what you've done to me, to my."

"You're fucking wacked. I see now; he wouldn't have tolerated a cold hearted bitch like you."

She smacked and grabbed his neck so he wouldn't speak anymore.

"One last time. You tell them the truth, and I go away forever. If you don't, the pain will start working its' way from your toes, all the way to your _bleeding_ skull. Tick tock, Damien. Tick... tock." She said before disappearing and him collapsing on the floor.

In a blink of an eye she vanished without a trace. His hallucinations were getting worse; the more sicker he got the more violent she becomes. It was quite impressive in his eyes, painful mostly, but impressive he had someone to talk to. He grabbed the pill bottle and took two to suppress acid reflux and lightheadedness. Once he was able to stand straight, he exited the bathroom before anything unusual was suspected. Sherry was waiting patiently in the interrogation room and noticed something was wrong with his face.

"Jesus Damien, are you okay?" she said getting up and over to him.

"Yeah I'm fine." He assured her. "Stale corn beef...don't think I need to say more."

"Your skin looks very pale. I'm going to get you some water."

"No, please sit. I'm ready to do this."

Both sat down face to face and she turned the recorder back on to continue the session. Since Sherry wanted to know every detail Damien could try to conjure, she started simple like asking about his grandmother and what she was like. He told her she had strength; when you're with her you know you're going to be safe. Heck he said, if you put her on the front lines on a battlefield she will instill nagging and courage to emerge victorious in the end. But he was exaggerating on that fact; she was a parent and a mentor, when his biological parents left him at a young age in her care. He even mentioned a couple years ago when Damien was around 21 or so, somehow his real parents found him living in Denver and sent him two separate photos depicting two separate families since they declared an open marriage, and took things a little too far with that privilege.

Sherry didn't know what to say for something like that, but Damien didn't care. He even brought up a letter that was attached to both photos just to get a chuckle out of himself. It explained that his parents were sorry about abandoning him all these years and to let him know he wasn't a mistake. He didn't go further in depth about it, but he already accepted the fact they were already dead to him. Grandma on the other hand did what any decent parent would do, keep their own on the right path no matter how much the world changes a child. Sherry claimed she must've been the perfect guardian; she then went on to asking how her raising him affected in academics and stuff.

High School was typical teenage drama for him. Damien was more kept to himself and didn't get swayed by a mentally screwed up society. He brought up however that he had a friend before finding out his grandmother has been sick due to heart conditions. The friend stood by and supported him through his troubles half their junior year, but medical costs were going up. A friend of the grandmother's worked for a big Pharmaceutical Company called Atwell, where they specialized in heart difficulties. Her longtime friend didn't want to have the risk in losing her job, so she had to argue her case on Agatha's behalf. Unfortunately, costs for medicine went up and Agatha didn't have enough money for surgery. A few nights before his life changed, Damien made a promise to her that he was going to find a job and help her pay for medical expenses. As stubborn as she was, she desperately wanted him to finish his junior year and start looking during his senior year.

Since then, every day after school he would go to about six places of business like grocery stores, restaurants, even a barber shop, but to no avail not one gave him a job. The more he kept looking the medicine at his grandmother's house was getting empty. He was running out of time, though less time than her; so he went so far as to walk towards a hospital on the other side of town to apply for a job. But the end result was the same: they were either not hiring or the place was fully staffed. Sherry then wanted him to go into more detail about the break in at that same hospital to get the meds his grandmother needed.

Damien went to go sit on a bench somewhere to think about his options. Junior year was dragging for him, and the list of jobs he tried applying to in person were not hiring. Things were not looking so good; the night he decided to do the crime he saw his grandmother vomiting in the toilet. She wasn't the same, strong woman he came to know well. Her friend from Atwell, Bethany, decided to stop by her house and offered to take her to her hospital. She was to be put her on a respirator to make her final moments comfortable, but before Damien realized that was happening, the break in was set in motion. He knew some people from school who were into drugs and were in desperate need of a fix when he found them half drunk outside a bar somewhere.

_**"What's happening, seniors?" **_Damien asked nonchalantly.

_**"Uh...do we know you?"**_

_**"That's that kid Walsh. He's a junior." **_

_**"Oh hey. Want a hit?"** _Male senior asked holding out some weed.

_**"I need your help. I was thinking about scoring some oxycodone. You guys game for a steal?"**_

_**"What do we get in exchange? You don't seem like the delinquent type."**_

_**"A chance to savor some over the counter shit without having to pay for it. There's this hospital downtown called St. Carrodines."**_

_**"Hey Jack, wasn't Carrodines a crack house in the eighties?" **_

_**"Damn straight."**_He replied exhaling a smoke puff. **_"It got converted into a hospital with security out the ass. We need some serious Splinter Cell gear if we're going to pull this off."_**

**_"That mean you guys will help?"_**

The plan was simpler said by voice and not so much in action: to walk in the hospital, cause a ruckus, and break into the pharmacy to steal a couple medicine bottles that were vital to her heart palpitations. It was a group of five guys; the plan was executed as one pretended to have a seizure while another pretended to give himself brain damage from banging his head against the wall. They were tooled up for some free drugs. Damien slipped by as the nurses tended to the "sick" men as he ran down the hall to find a pharmacy someplace. By the time he did find one, one of the security guards asked him if he was lost. The third guy, he recalled the name Ralph, ran up behind the three guards and roughed them up a bit.

Then the fourth and final guy came running along and stole a radio the pharmacist was listening to. Damien had about an 80 second window before any other surprises stumped them. He managed to get the heart medication his grandmother needed but suddenly a stroke of karma hit him; a feeling of what he was about to do with the medication if he had taken another step towards the exit. His body froze looking at the bottle; a guard tackled him to the ground and cuffed him tightly. While the story behind his arrest was intriguing, Sherry stopped him mid-sentence.

"_Let me get this straight; you had the meds in your hands, had an escape planned with them and you just froze?"_

"_Boring right? The real kicker would have been me actually getting away with it. I was only thinking about making my grandmother better. Obviously it didn't go my way. That's the thing in crossing over to the other side of the law; when you're the type of person who has never stolen or killed anyone, the moment when that burden is on your hands it changes your entire perspective. You become another person. I changed Ms. Birkin, but not from that night."_

"_What happened next?"_

Six, pissed off security personnel benched all five culprits until the police came by and took them in. To the Denver County Jail they were sent off to. Once they got there, they were taken mug shots and got placed in separate cells so they wouldn't talk to each other. He said it was one long, cold night, with nothing but a buzzing fly to annoy him when everything around him was unnaturally quiet. Other prisoners were practically out cold during lockdown; which made Damien's stay more nerve wracking. The next day, one of the Sheriffs shouted his name to be released on bail. The cell door opened up and in the main lobby where he got his belongings back had a well composed yet leg casted, man in marine uniform. This man thanked the Sheriff and was going to take things from there.

He plainly told Damien to follow him outside the station. They walked to a Diner somewhere for some breakfast. Every fiber of his being wanted to know who he was and why a military man would bail out a teenager without knowing him in the past life. As soon as they got to the Diner and sat down, they really got to know each other.

"Alright, pick out anything you want. It's on me." He said.

"Who are you and why'd you bail me out?"

"Hmmph, little gratitude would be nice. If I wasn't in the hospital you'd still be in jail." Travers replied putting down his menu. "I saw you last night as you lifted some medicine from the pharmacy. You're pretty good, didn't crack under pressure and wasn't afraid to suffer the consequences."

"Listen mister, no offense, but I don't know what just happened to me. Jail went by so quickly I can't remember my last thought before I slept."

"Easily rectified, name's Samuel Travers. I was a Sergeant in the United States Marine Corp. As you can see from my injuries I was discharged from the service and got released from the hospital early this morning. Being in a firefight is dangerous, Mr. Walsh, but it can be invigorating for someone with a death wish."

"You don't say." He said with a feeling of awkwardness. "For some reason I lost my appetite."

A waitress came by and asked for their orders. Sam ordered two orange juices for both of them and were still looking at the menu. Before she left, she thanked him for his service to the country, and he came up with the most cheesiest response ever to be heard by human ears, but she didn't care. She walked away smiling and Sam came up with a proposal to Damien.

"For the record, you didn't do anything wrong." Samuel said.

"Well I feel like crap." He replied.

"You're supposed to feel like that. Who in their right mind would step into a hospital, not packing side arms and taking people hostage, just to score some medicine?"

"It wasn't for me." Damien said.

"Was it for your accomplices then? Look, the heart meds you took never left the hospital. It was still in mint condition with all 87 pills inside."

"Why don't you stop bullshitting around and tell me what you want from me."

"Have you ever been out of the country, Damien?"

"Not recently."

"I hear Norway's a good place to explore. You see, other ex-marines owe me a favor in acquiring information about this temple called "Kurinthian". There's Intel inside that could be vital in cutting off a strong link to bioterrorism."

"Bioterrorism?" He asked. "What's that got to do with Norway, or busting me out of jail, or taking me to a diner when I'm not even hungry?"

"You got a mark on your record. When I said you didn't do anything wrong, that's just my personal opinion. The line of work I'm in now is very determined in helping troubled kids doing a service to this country. Thereby, getting their records cleared of any wrongdoing."

"I have a sick relative, a pissed one most likely." He said before the waitress bring them their beverages. "She's my priority and I'm not gonna abandon her."

Sam placed a breakfast order for himself by ordering steak and eggs. Damien still wasn't feeling for an English muffin at least, but Sam ordered him an English muffin regardless with butter in case he changed his mind. Damien really wasn't liking where this meet was going. Sam implored him to think about his future, about his grandmother. He was shocked at the "lucky" guess at who the sick relative was. Before he left, Sam gave him his card with a cell phone number on the front only. Without a thank you or goodbye, he left the diner and waited by the bus stop.

Traffic was calm, but the buses were running late. It felt out of place since the buses usually ran on time regardless of the day or week. The name "Travers" fled his mind so he wouldn't have anything to do with a stranger. Heck, he was still trying to figure out why he froze with the heart medication in his hand. He was in the clear he thought; the others he brought along with him he could give less of a shit about if they went after him or not. After an hour of waiting, the bus came and took him back to his grandmother's neighborhood. Things were brewing of interest in the interrogation room, making Sherry wanting to move things along.

"_Ok, maybe I overestimated in how much of the story I wanted from you. Let's skip the medication part for the moment and discuss what kind of marine this Travers was. _Sherry said on the audio recorder.

"_What's there to say? He took me and four other people to a slaughterhouse to cover his own ass."_

_"He didn't send you guys out there to get your names cleared?"_

_"Kind of irrelevant right now don'cha think? You ever heard of the silver tongue, Ms. Birkin?"_

_"It's a slew of military slangs soldiers use to inspire influence in other soldiers."_

_"Monica was an idiot to like him. All those years ago I bought into his bullshit even when I knew it was bullshit the entire time. If we had gone a different route in the temple."_

_"If she is crucial to the story, your grandmother, tell me how she reacted about you in jail."_

_"Like any concerned parent or relative. She was pissed, but with her heart condition she didn't do a whole lot to teach me a lesson. That was another good thing about her personal strength. You see kids nowadays get into all kinds of trouble, and no parents will grow a pair to set them straight. A spanking goes a long way for a wrongdoing child; it gives them incentive to not screw up a second time."_

_"You're telling me that you were perfect in your youth? Heh, you don't have to answer that._" She said as both chuckled.

_"Instead of yelling at me, as soon as I got back home and walked through the door a suit case was thrown at my feet. She gave me this look; it was the same one she gave my father when he was a troublemaking kid. He believed her strict attitude was too much for him to handle. To get back at her, he grabbed one of her favorite vases she found at a flea market and shattered it on the ground. Beating him seemed useless; so she packed all his clothes and had him go out into the real world and live by his own rules. Surprisingly after half a month he came crawling back, begging for her forgiveness. She never said a word to me as I was packing, just watched me."_

_"That must've been terrible your grandmother throwing you out like that."_

_"I stole heart medication. She had every right to throw me out. It was her way of blowing off steam, or in her current case, take some stress off her heart."_

_"Go on." _Sherry replied.

By the time Damien packed his belongings and walked to the front door of his house, he turned around to only see her with her back turned to him. He bid her goodbye and said he hoped she would get through this difficult time with her heart. He would've gone on about how her doctor told him about the condition in the first place and how she wasn't honest with him about it, but in his mind what he did was no better. He went out the door with a suit case and two bars left on his cell phone. As he walked down his neighborhood and soon around Denver for a while, he called Bethany from Atwell to tell her that he wasn't going to be with her for some time.

When she asked why he told her they had a falling out. She saw the news about the robbed hospital and who was responsible, and was curious to know why Damien was taken in. He wanted to tell her the truth; any genuine friend of his grandmother's was good in his book. He forced himself not to do it though. All he asked of her was to visit whenever she could and take care of her while he was gone. She then demanded to know what was going on and where he was going in this world.

The last thing he said before hanging up was to tell her how sorry he was for what happened, that he had no excuse whatsoever. After he hung up it was already 11 in the morning. He already missed some of his morning classes at school and he didn't have a whole lot of friends to turn to for help. In some ways, if he hadn't met that silver tongued marine when he bailed him out of jail, he'd be in dire straits without a hope to get free. The card in his pocket showed his cell phone number. For the time being, he wanted to hear what Travers had to say about getting his record cleared along with this temple in Norway. Damien rang him up.

_"Yo!" _Travers said on the other line.

"It's Damien, the one you bailed out of prison this morning."

_"You changed your mind huh?"_

"It's a long story, but if you say going to this temple is going to get my name cleared then I…want in."

_"You still seemed unconvinced." _He said while Damien didn't respond for a second. "_You know where the Ross Cherry Creek Library is on Milwaukee?"_

"Yeah, I've been there once."

_"I'm gonna be there for some light reading. If you're truly serious about Norway, come down and speak to me. I'll give you the details then."_

"Sure...I'll be there." Damien said unsurely.

It was a long walk from where he was with a heavy suit case. He didn't have money for a cab so he had no choice but to hoof it to the library. It was a brisk afternoon with crowds of people walking and running past him, almost got knocked over once or twice. He got to the library and at the entrance one of the people working there stopped him to check his suit case. Once it was verified with nothing out of the ordinary they allowed him to continue inside. He hasn't been to a library since his elementary school days; only thing changed was the paint job from blue to tangerine. A voice whispered out to Damien from the second floor for him to come up. Damien found him strangely reading a video game magazine that seemed more intriguing to him than any old book in the entire library.

"Hey, you made it." He said putting down his magazine. "Um, you'll be provided clothing and other amenities once we get to Venezuela."

"It's Venezuela now?" He asked catching his breath. "What's over there?"

"Training; have a seat."

Before explaining to him what his role was in Norway, he showed him the video game magazine depicting '90s classics of the survival horror genre. He said it was rather fitting to what he was going to talk about. Venezuela had an offshore operating base where he and the other four participants were going for training. The Kurinthian Temple at its present state was mysterious to say the least. There have been mysterious killings happening outside the once impoverished landmark, and it was rumored to be linked to Bioterrorism.

Travers said he would go in depth behind the temple's origins once they were in Venezuela. The temple was once a testament to victories done by Norse Gods, and it held in weapons of the age as well as trophies of slain monsters. Its' size and scale would be twice the length and exploration of a certain mansion in one of the survival horror games. He then went on to explain what Damien's role was; according to recent events about lifting a bottle of heart medication with the help of others creating distractions for him, his role was going to be simple in a sense. He was to collect the Intel that was vital to turning the tide on bioterrorism.

With this, a team of evac choppers would come to their rescue when the Intel was found via comm radios. Damien thought "simple" was too obvious a word for Travers to use in what he was saying, because exploring in a temple of such magnitude would have dangerous obstacles keeping him from accomplishing the goal. His silver tongue kept getting more vibrant the more Damien listened to it. Before Travers left for a meeting, he left behind a plane ticket and some cab fare, telling him to be at the airport 7:30 P.M. sharp. He kept looking at the ticket and was still thinking about his grandmother's condition. He decided to give her a call.

_"Damien, that you?"_ Bethany asked.

"Yeah hi, how's she holding up?"

_"How do you think? Her heart's not doing all that great and she realized she made a mistake in kicking you out. I managed to get some prescription pills from my hospital out of friendship. She's enduring at the moment."_

"That's good you being there. Listen, Mrs. Taye, about what happened at the other hospital. If it's worth anything, I never left with those pills."

_"Damien, _she sighed, _I'm not in the mood to hear about your encounter with the cops. But I know why you did it. When she calmed down, she told me you've been out every day after school for three weeks looking for a job. In some twisted way, I actually commend you that you tried helping her when financial bullshit slaps you in the face."_

"Thanks, but I think it's best I stay out of her hair for a while, just until she gets better."

_"Did you not hear what I said just now? It is fine, you can come home." S_he said before it took Damien a minute to respond. _"Damien?!"_

"Tell her I love her okay?"

His phone seizure in his hand from all the nerves he had leaving his grandmother in Bethany's care. He took his suit case and did some traveling around the city to shake it off. 7:30 was still hours away and he needed something to do until then. Luckily, there was a GameStop store opened. It had small gaming booths for customers to come in and try out games before they buy them. One of them had a game that was survival horror on the PlayStation 1 system, the same one that was listed in the magazine at the library. He never played it before so he went over to try it out.

It was kind of intense for him as he was introduced to some rabid dogs jumping through windows in a dated mansion, but it was intriguing to shoot the undead with very little ammo he had. It definitely built up the tension in his 60 minute game time. He then went over to what seemed to be another horror type game with updated graphics. It was good for him because the aiming set up in that game was better refined, however not as much tension as the mid '90s game. In fact, as he was playing the game he couldn't shake this feeling that some of the events felt similar in real life, similar to when the President gave his statement about his daughter getting kidnapped in Europe the year before. Damien thought the girl was a nut bar in going to Europe in the first place, what with all these "viral outbreaks" going on in the world. He's heard of those words too, but never cared much about its' meaning since he was living a simple life and not killing creatures from a diabolical corporation. Before he knew it, he left the store and it was already 1:16 in the afternoon. He tried to find other things to occupy his time.

_"It must've been hard on you, leaving your grandmother behind like that." _Sherry told Damien.

_"You have no idea. Bethany was there to care for her when I couldn't thank god. I shouldn't have left so soon."_

_"Let's jump to the part where you met Travers at the airport."_

Damien was running late and the cab he took had a very bitter driver who kept spewing negative innuendos about life and society. When he reached the airport, he gave the driver the money and dashed out of there like a bat out of hell. In one of the terminals he heard someone calling his name from the crowd. Travers kept signaling him to haul ass to the ramp. Both got on the plane with a few minutes to spare, and sat down in their seats to go over what was going to happen in Venezuela.

"Mr. Walsh, welcome to your first step in getting your name cleared."

"It wasn't easy to be honest." Damien replied getting himself adjusted in his seat.

"Your sick relative huh; how's she doing?"

"So who else is involved on this Norway trip of yours?" He asked avoiding the question.

"The offshore operating base was my last stopping point before heading out on my last tour. It's like a watered down military school where soldiers can re-stock on ammo and improve their skills in the field. As far as I know about the temple, it's...haunted."

"Haunted, you're screwing with me right?"

"I'll explain once we get there. The other four participants have specific skill sets that's going to aid us both on this exploration. Do yourself a favor though, they have marks the size of Africa on their records. With their help, they can utilize their skills to do something good. If one talks to you, don't look him directly in the eye. Just smile and nod if you value your body parts to stay whole."

"Loving it so far; what are we supposed to find in…Carthian? Don't tell me, it's highly classified and telling a teenager puts the operation in the shitter?"

"It's "Kurinthian", and I have no idea what we're going to find. All I know it's linked to bioterrorism and it's up to us to stop it. We got a long flight from here to Venezuela so I suggest you get some sleep."

"At this point I doubt anything would surprise me. Tell me one thing though."

"What's up?" Travers asked.

He has made alot of questionable moves since his grandmother's heart condition. Sleeping less, inattentive at school, even agreeing to a Sergeant's proposal to get cleared of a crime he did for good intentions. He asked Travers why he would want to send troubled teens like him to a forsaken place like some temple. He mentioned two words: Raccoon City. He was one of the pilots flying around the infested wasteland as he heard dying screams of poor souls down below. He had never heard anything so horrid, then the fact Umbrella released a nuclear missile to cover their tracks, but that wasn't the worst of it. He had a wife who was interning as a chef at one of the restaurants in Raccoon on the day it all went to hell.

Luckily, she wasn't in that scrap when it happened he said. Travers looked at that experience as a blemish on U.S. history, especially the state of the human race. What if a crisis like this happened again he said, what if she was there working when the outbreak hit? Since then, he got promoted to being an instructor to young kids of Raccoon City survivors. Those who had families there were trained to be soldiers as well. It wasn't a mandatory thing, but it was a highly recommended program for youths from mid-teens and up to make a difference. His last tour was in Istanbul, got hit pretty hard during a firefight. It was the reason he was temporarily handicapped by a bum leg.

It was a week and a half prior to Damien's break in to the hospital. Travers saw him as a misguided opportunity. He wanted Damien to realize that although he could care less about outbreaks, bioterrorism, or politics, the world has gotten more dangerous than it ever has before. He chose not to listen. Travers let him sleep the entire flight and when he woke he was going to get a taste of what his program was all about. The plane landed in Tucupita, where it had a beautiful view of the island of Trinidad and Tobago.

From there, both Travers and Damien drove towards a helipad where an unguarded chopper was there. He said a pilot friend of his left it there with a full tank of fuel. They took off and headed west of the Atlantic. Damien's head was jetlagged so he didn't have the luxury to enjoy the scenery. Before he knew it, he found himself looking at the offshore base that was built like an outside military school. A second chopper already landed; it was the one holding the other participants in. Once they landed on the helipad of the base, he introduced Damien to his ol' humble abode.

"Welcome to Venezuela. For the next month, you and the others are gonna learn firearms training and surroundings exploration."

"We're gonna learn how to fire guns?!"

"Well..._you_ might need the practice more than they do." Travers replied as they headed inside the base.

They made their way to the briefing room where the parole officers of each of the troubled kids were held in. Damien entered there like a foreign exchange student.

"They don't look so dangerous to me." Damien said.

"Take a seat." Travers insisted. "I need to talk to their parole officers."

Each participant looked like normal people; except for one girl who talked like she was from the south due to her accent. Another one had an English accent on him, looked like he never had a girlfriend in his entire life. The third guy was Jamaican descent, a bit bulky, looked like he could beat some heads. The last was a girl of Spanish descent, around mid-teens like him. Damien had a way of reading people and what their motivations were; a trait taught by his grandmother. However, the southern girl gave him a dirty look from all the staring that was placed on her.

"What'chu look'n at, dick brains?" She shouted as everyone went silent.

Damien didn't know how to respond to something like that. She then made an annoying claim like he was deaf. Her parole officer grabbed her and she was trying to break his grip. It was not going to end pretty for him.

"You gon ravage me like ya did in prison?!"

"That's enough!" Travers intervened. "Let her go."

"You know somethin Travey boy, you alright. Good to know you on our side." The English guy pointed out.

"You guys did your jobs. I'll take it from here." Travers told the officers before they left.

"Oh hey Daniels, she said getting her officers attention, tell your wife I be creamin fo days. She owe me lap a dance and a cavity search!"

"You bitch!" Daniels screamed as he ran toward her.

Travers prevented Daniels from doing something stupid like manhandling a convict. It took the other three officers to restrain him, telling him it was not the time or place. They got him out of the briefing room with Travers shutting the door behind them. He sighed for a brief moment and walked to the front to face each participant.

"I can already tell we're going to make a good team."

"Keep dreaming, Monroe." The Jamaican guy said.

"Now that we got that shit out of the way, I'd like to introduce our fifth and final member of this expedition, Damien Walsh. Please arise Damien." He said before he stood up slowly from his chair. "Tell everyone what you're in for."

"Let me guess, j-walkin?" She interrupted.

"No, I almost stole meds from a hospital clinic but didn't have the balls to see it through. Now someone close to me is dying because of me. Is that good enough for you?" Damien announced before sitting back down leaving everyone in the room silent.

"Who were they for?"

"Damien, meet Terrell Amaro. He has experience in Norwegian Legends. He's been looking into the history behind the Kurinthian Temple and what its origins contains. He'll be the most resourceful for us. The drama queen behind you is Monica Janowitz, born in Southern Kentucky and specializes in "extracurricular" activities."

"You keep flatterin, I might show you my "extracurricular" activities in the night." She said smirking.

"I don't think shiving people's eye balls and screeching 'round corpses counts as a first date."

"That's Monroe." Travers announced. "He's in for getting 120 restraining orders and is an attention craver."

"Just providing me services to an idiotic society is all. I'm going to play as the distraction in the temple in case we run into any nasty undead... Don't all get up at once now."

"You done; lastly we have Cara Moreno. She's in for, he said before Cara gave him a look not to speak, when we have time, both you and Damien can speak in private."

Once the un-pleasantries were out of the way, Travers went to talking about the history behind the temple. First was its' origins; back in Norse times long after the desecration of their species in Ragnarok, mortals who survived the onslaught built certain temples that were shrines to gods they believed in, even built a museum depicting certain theaters of war done by Odin. However, there was one temple that had the entire package so to speak. It played as purgatory to the Architects who were constructing it, because it was a temple unknowingly made on top of a steep chasm holding something precious below. Centuries after Norse times, explorers and thieves traversed into the vast temple looking for something known as the Elixir of Valhalla. It was a pool of blood taken from millions of battlefields, blood wounds left behind by the gods, and were taken in droves as it was poured into the pool.

This was done by worshippers who have walked each battlefield, collectors in a sense. In the new age, the entrance to the Elixir was sealed off up until the mid-1970s. The temple's contents were founded by a modern architect named Archer Kurinthian. He was a man with a hunger of high valued history such as the Norse Mythology. With a team of just 221 abled bodies, they were able to remove the cobwebs and bring back the temple's veracity into the 20th century. The rest of the details were just pure speculation, but Travers laid them on the table to go further into what happened to Archer.

Archer had a daughter named Phylicia. She was only 11 years old in 1976; the last year the temple was fully restored. Archer became physically exhausted from the backbreaking work and financial jabbing he had to go through to make this all real. About a month after it was all said and done, Archer went with his daughter on a vacation to Italy. From there, they toured Venezia to sightsee. Though they didn't do much of that due to Archer's still exhaustive state, later details were said that a man of certain conviction approached him in 1981 to offer him a job in global expansion. A pharmaceutical company was doing unexplainably well in the states; the Ashford family's reputation was unparalleled to any corporate giant in the country.

They wanted Archer to build another Umbrella Corporation in the middle east so the people there can have medicine at very affordable prices. Phylicia was a teenager, and was fully capable in studying her father's past designs. He was going to accept the offer if his daughter was there to help him out on the project. The Ashford family, namely James Marcus, took a leap of faith and complied with his request. It was not without consequence however; Archer's line of work had him personally take on big ambitious projects such as the temple. This made him a Leonardo Da Vinci of architecture, mainly because it would take him months to get a specific design right for the building, and the materials requested by Marcus were insanely expensive.

That part was covered, but the man power went from his staff of 221 to only 124 strong. Phylicia wasn't able to help a whole lot either because of school and looking into colleges. The more Archer requested more man power for the project, Marcus gave him that story about how every great moment in history started with one, with hundreds, if not thousands to follow in his stead. Rome wasn't built in a day he told Archer, though he was dismayed at the amount of time he took to establish the exact design requested. Days turned into sleepless weeks, sleepless weeks turned to a full year.

During that time, Phylicia grew more worried about her father's health. When the building was finally done, Marcus and Umbrella founder Ozwell E. Spencer, came to his home to congratulate him on such a triumphant contribution to the world. It was only until Phylicia walked home from school later that afternoon to find him dead in a pool of his own blood. It was gushing red all over the house. What was even more messed up, her father was there but only his skin. Something was lurking in the house, and it nearly cost her life.

"Did she shoot what eva jumped outta 'im?" Monica asked.

"Her father didn't keep any firearms in the household, but he did have Norse keepsakes he took from the temple that helped even the score. According to old police reports there was no trace of the monster or her in sight." Travers said. "I have reason to believe two strong life forms are living in the temple now, and whatever's causing the mysterious murders in Norway might be that very same B.O.W."

"Sorry, what's a bow?" Monroe asked.

"Bioorganic weapons." Cara said out of nowhere. "Sorry I…wanted to chime in."

"It's ok, Cara. Good of you to be with us. Bio Organic Weapons made their debut on a train called the Ecliptic Express and terrorized all known passengers by overwhelming them with leeches. This conspiracy led to the same family who hired Archer to build their Umbrella Corporation. Next was a mansion in the Arklay Mountains, then of course Raccoon City. I was one of the pilots circling around the area when the Tyrant Virus first broke out. The public were led to believe that these catastrophes were long behind us when Umbrella destroyed all evidence of the outbreak. Their company went up in flames a few years back. But something has been cooking up in Norway, linked to Bioterrorism."

"The Kurinthian Queens." Terrell said.

"Terrell, you have the floor." Travers replied.

"My research on these murders has been linked to a series of interviews by Norwegian reporters. They talk of Queens, flying around the temple. It was rumored that two queens have been passing themselves off as excavators and capturing people during night time."

"I guess tour guides would've been too obvious." Damien said.

"There _were_ tours being given around the temple in the mid '90s, but around 2001 that's when the murders began. Tour guides found different lines of work, and there were less and less security investigating each year. One source mentioned of a limping corpse walking around the edge of the temple with something growing in its stomach."

"Male or female?" Monroe asked.

"Does it matter?" Terrell said.

"Imagine a pregnant man walking about our streets, let alone someone who was bloody infected and people screaming for their lives. I'm sorry; continue?"

"Around March of 2002, the Queens were seen again, this time in exquisite gowns made up of one specific color for each: red and white."

"The Red Queen: Umbrella's central A.I. computer. She went haywire before the city blew up." Travers explained. "There's a red queen in Norway?"

"A human version I believe, or from the outside they say. The temple doesn't have any current existing technology so A.I.s wouldn't work. As for the White Queen, nobody has seen her face."

"It could be Phylicia Kurinthian." Cara pointed out. "You said both her and the monster that killed her father disappeared right?"

"Yeah, but how would a simple B.O.W. jump to the other side of the world? It would need to feed to survive, and there haven't been news reports on abnormal attacks up until Norway. Strange." Travers said.

"You have a picture or something to show us what he looks like." Damien asked?

"That's what you're on about?" Monroe said. "You lied to me Travers. You told me this temple was more of a field trip, not a mission to get our heads chewed off."

"You want to go back to England; serve out your five year sentence with the number of restraining orders you got?"

"Touché mate." Monroe replied.

Cara chimed in once more to address a tactic that didn't require a gun if encountering resistance. The tactic was simple: Singing to dead souls. Back when she was little she was living with her aunt in Raccoon City. Travers stopped her saying she didn't have to talk about the event just the tactic, but at this point she gained enough confidence to prove it worked for her. When the outbreak happened and people were screaming for their lives in the streets, zombies broke their windows and tried cramming into the house. Her aunt was scared beyond comprehension, and Cara didn't know how to defend herself; that's when an unlikely idea popped into her head.

There was a karaoke machine in the living room under a cupboard; both her and her aunt plugged it in and something extraordinary took form. For a girl at age twelve, she had a sweet velvet voice of a professional singer. Her voice simmered down the crowding undead in just a matter of a few minutes. She couldn't explain why it worked at all, but she concluded saying the zombies stared at her in silence, leaving both of them cold and still. Then soon, the zombies left to go feed on someone else, and they never came back. A good three hours have passed since then; her singing happened very early on in the outbreak. S.T.A.R.S. members found them and got them together with other evacuees to escape from the city. Though Cara made it out alive, her aunt got bit and was being eaten in front of her. It traumatized her to an amazing extent, forcing her to never open her mouth to soothe rigid souls again. Travers made an announcement to Damien that he wasn't entirely honest with what kind of team he was going to be dealing with.

"Thank you Cara. So yeah, you're looking at a survivor of Raccoon City. If only had her voice was heard on all radio frequencies perhaps the undead would've been stunned, giving more people time to escape. They would still be living today. Damien, I wasn't honest with you. When you said these guys looked like regular people to you, you're right. I don't see criminals in this room; I see misguided individuals, perhaps violent to some. I pulled you all away from random circumstances to have you come here, but legally you're not forced to go on this expedition. By a show of hands, if there's any of you who feel that this is a suicide mission from all the info you heard today, just say the word. I'll call your parole officer, have you transported safely back to county to serve out the rest of your time, or go back to your lives. The decision is yours."

Travers gave each participant a minute to think over on what has been said about Norway and whether or not they wanted to partake in what was going to happen. Damien spoke out in wanting to go, saying that he never really valued another person's life or sob story other than his own grandmother. After hearing Cara's story, it seemed she was strong enough to get past her grief in losing her aunt. He personally didn't know what would happen to his grandmother, but the way his life was looking he had no other choice but to participate. No one else hesitated besides Monroe.

"Hey, I'm just saying. If we're going to die, might as well video tape the damn thing and hopefully one of us puts it on the net. Trust is in short supply these days."

"There will be no recording of any kind on this trip. If you find trinkets or keepsakes, you contact me. That will be evidence enough of us being there. Now if there's no other questions, the barracks have been prepared. So settle in, and in an hour we'll go over what training exercises we're going to be covering. Dismissed!"

All five got up and left the briefing room, and went down to the barracks. It wasn't much; dark blue bunk beds, gray walls and slightly tinted windows to only view the ocean. Since there were four bunk beds instead of five for the participants, one had to sleep on the floor. Monica made sure her back was going to lay in dense fabric than a cold, hard floor.

"Listen up, people! There are four beds and five of us. Y'all gon have to choose who sleeps on the ground."

"And let me guess, if we can't decide you'll "rassle" us like the pigs you were raised in?" Damien asked before everyone else gasped.

"The fuck you say city boy?" She asked jumping down from a bunk. "I was raised with wax in my ears so you gon have to speak up."

"I'll sleep on the floor." Cara said.

"No, you're not!" both Damien and Terrell said and looked at each other.

"Guys, guys!" Monroe interrupted. "It's not a big deal. When my parents threw me out I slept on cold grounds. I'm used to it."

"You ain't goin anywhere either." Monica told him. "This is day one, so I'll make this easy to understand. When I was chilling in an all female's prison, I jived against some of the meanest bitches around. One day, I was taking a shower, and a female guard decides to walk in and..feel up on me some. Kept feelin up on my legs, went north towards the sweet spot. Know what I did?"

"I'm sure you're going to tell us." Damien replied.

"I broke her knee cap with a soapy foot, took her handcuffs and cuffed her to the shower pipe. Twenty minutes later, she never spoke a word again."

"Christ, you killed her!" Monroe said.

"Nah, my nails were feelin sharp so I left five deep scars on her throat. No one fucks with a Janowitz."

"I have a sick grandmother." Damien chimed. "She's all I got right now. And I'm praying she's still breathing by the time I get back."

"What's your point?" Monica asked.

"She was always a mother to me, taught me not to take shit from anyone. What makes you think I'll whimper from someone who doesn't look so tough?"

Suddenly, Travers came on the intercom in the barracks without them realizing there was one to begin with. He praised Damien for getting to know his team mates and that he heard the entire debate on whether or not who sleeps on the floor. He called Monica to his office and let everyone else know that soon they were going to meet up in the armory, or lack thereof he said, and set up targeting ranges for weapons training. She acknowledged Travers' request with a snake like smile on her face as her shoulder bashed against Damien's walking out. He told them all the essentials were packed out and gave them some time to sort through them. The four remaining participants separated for a minute to settle in. Damien placed his suit case on his bunk to sort his clothes out when Terrell went up to him.

"You got steel in your balls, man. Out of the four of us you were the only one who didn't flinch once when calling Monica out on her bullshit story."

"She doesn't scare me. I'm just going to do what Travers brought me here for, and I'll be on my way."

"I don't think that'll be easy, mate." Monroe pointed out.

"Is it true, Terrell, is the temple haunted?" Damien asked.

"One thing's for sure. Whoever those Queens I found in my research, we're not going to be alone in there."

"You have the lay out of the temple, right? You studied for any passageways or back doors to find this Intel quicker?" Cara asked.

"I'm not sure why he didn't say anything. The temple's revival from the '70s was the only article I found, the only one that spoke of the project. Who knows what those Queens have done to the place since then."

"Ok, so we're flying to the temple blind, and most likely get beheaded by a couple of ol' hags from the Middle Ages? Yep, sounds logical." Monroe said.

"Heh, thanks for the vote of confidence." Damien told Monroe.

Waiting for an hour, turned into an hour and a half. Then two hours, almost three in total. However, it was enough time for Damien to observe who he was going to be working with. Terrell seemed like a good guy, one of those gentle giant types that only cause trouble when the situation demands it. Cara was an approachable type as well. She wrote in her journal the entire time. Monroe was a different story; when a dialogue was not in play, he had a tendency to look sharply at five or six directions at once.

He wasn't harming anyone though. The only person Damien was weary towards was Monica. They were getting restless in figuring out where Travers and Monica have gone too, but in a blink of an eye both walk through the barracks' door and rounded them up on their first training session in using firearms. Monica came in with a different outlook than she did before; as if she was more relaxed and actually apologized to Damien about the hostility she gave upon his arrival. As they marched towards the training square, Cara was whispering to Terrell about Monica's calm demeanor. Monroe assumed Travers straightened her out, and by that he meant giving her something no man seemed to do since she was in an all females' prison. She couldn't be any more obvious in walking beside him and not with the group. This was starting to turn into a pattern when Sherry stopped him mid-way telling his story.

_"So, you're meaning to tell me that an ex-marine, 32 years of age, had sexual relations with a 20 year old sociopath?_" Sherry asked during the interview.

_"It seemed that way to Monroe. Then again, with the way he thinks sometimes you'd imagine he was born in a gutter somewhere instead of England."_

_"Is this part of the story going somewhere, or are you just not thinking clearly?"_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"The air conditioner's been on blast for the last hour and you're sweating bullets."_

_"Now who's detracting from the subject matter? What's that say about you, Ms. Birkin? You look alot paler now than when we started. Are you feeling alright?"_

_"Proceed."_

For the first four days of the week, it was an alteration of firearms training and dark exploration. On those days, Travers took them to the darkest corners of the base, either in groups of two or stand alone. It was a basis for what they were going to endure in the temple: darkness, eerie sounds, maybe a jump scare or two. Damien skimmed over those training sessions as much as possible since it took place over the course of a month. He stuck with some relevant details, like at one point where Monroe was in the armory staring at one gun and a rocket launcher.

He was curious as to why they weren't put to use like the other weapons. They were in glass cases as if they were more antiques than useable. Travers mentioned they were replicas of genuine made weapons that helped the S.T.A.R.S members get out of some tough scrapes in the Arklay Mansion back in 1998. The side arm was a Beretta 92F, also known as the Samurai Edge. It had the capability to render any form of the undead to pieces once a single bullet is fired. Travers explained it once belonged to a legendary bad ass that had an old fashioned way of doing things.

A real family man he was, but from what he remembered from the S.T.A.R.S. reports, it was never confirmed whether he lived or died in Raccoon City. Monroe was allowed to hold the gun for the first time, and out of nowhere he felt an immense sum of pride that with the right attitude he was going to survive the temple ordeal with little to no fear at all. It didn't change his attitude as a whole though. He was still annoying at times trying to get attention. As for the ordinary rocket launcher, it has been a tradition, more of a personal practice to a soldier, who has been giving the opportunity to send the final punch into Umbrella's gut. A lot could be said for a rocket launcher, but in the society they lived in, it was the most absolute tool to take down a B.O.W. in style.

Another unique thing Damien recalled were the uniforms they were going to wear on the trip. It was optional for those who brought clothes to the base. Travers wasn't very stingy on military wear, especially Monica. She wanted to be free in her own clothes. One of the outfits was covered in black with some armor attachments and a gas mask.

"Is the temple radiated, Travers?" Terrell asked.

"As far as we know, no form of gas has caused the killings in Norway. But hey you never know." He said lifting up the gas mask from the outfit. "This mask here has some relevance back to Raccoon City. We never knew who wore it though; they say he was like a ninja or something. He entered into the infected abyss, and never rose from the dead. Some say death can't touch him. Maybe this outfit can be…a dormant shield for you. The neckline of the mask is stiff enough to avoid any creature bites."

"And if we're walking in the shadows, they won't be able to see me."

"Precisely Terrell." Travers replied.

Weapons training in one month didn't feel like it was enough for Damien to learn, mostly because he's never shot a gun before. Then again, neither did Monroe until he started staring at the Beretta in between sessions. Now for the exploring part, Damien and Cara were really good in getting lost in the base, and for good reason. Travers kept telling them about having the element of surprise in their favor because no one has gone into the Temple since the mid '90s. They would be able to slip in unnoticed. One last relevant detail from the exploring part of his training was solving a puzzle.

At first, it didn't sound complex as Travers led them to believe, but it was going to be difficult to test out the result once it was solved. The entire base was split into three pentagons, with one bridge to cross on each. For the month, they were kept in one part of the base for weapons training; the other two contained storage, maintenance, and an extra helipad which was the final checkpoint everybody had to reach before heading out to Norway. It was March 17, 2005; the day before the mission started. The center of the base was the main training square with the two passages that lead to the helipad. Everyone broke up into two groups of three: Damien was with Cara and Monroe, and Terrell ran with Travers and Monica. Before the big race began, Travers gave one last piece of advice.

"This is it guys." He echoed. "I didn't think we'd be able to accomplish so much in a month's time, but we did. For what it's worth, I can see everyone here getting their records cleaned of past crimes. Now here's the bad news, I uh got a memo from my superiors this morning. They've gotten wind we were occupying this base without a permit, and the fact that I stole a gunship from them as a traveling vessel to get to Norway. That's the reason why you weren't allowed to go beyond the briefing sector. Venezuelan aircraft has been monitoring this base for the past four weeks."

"How much time we got?" Monica asked him.

"Less than thirty-five minutes to get out of here." He replied looking down. "Afterwards, they'll start shooting down the structure."

"Jesus Christ!" Monroe said to himself.

"You picked a hell of a time to tell us." Damien said.

"We should get moving then." Cara said.

"I know what this means. I haven't been honest with you and I can't take that back. All that's left now is to get out of here. No turning back. There's one speed you're going to need, and that's your own. Here are the lists of combination locks." He said handing them out to everyone. "There are five in each so I don't know which ones are the right ones. Once we go through our tunnels, there will be three main access points; one of them will lead into the blast door. Might as well warn ya, when you choose your path, you best be damn sure it's the right one. So count your minutes, hope to see you all at the helipad."

It was quite a shock to Damien and the others in having limited time to get off the base. Both teams ran inside their tunnels and looked at their synchronized watches to keep track at how much time they had. What was going through everyone's minds Damien assumed, was what other things Travers didn't have a chance to tell them about. The fact he brought up a countdown before the base gets destroyed was the farthest thing from his brain. He and his team didn't have radios so they couldn't contact the others to see how far they were from their blast door.

Thirty minutes and counting down; no dialogue was spent on either of the three. They just ran and ran through the dark tunnel, with no sounds other than their own breathing and footsteps. In Monroe's case, running in a tunnel felt like forever, and with only twenty-three minutes left Cara and Damien were losing their breath from running so long. With eighteen minutes and thirty-six seconds left, Damien told Cara and Monroe to stop for a minute.

"Mate, what're we waiting for? We gotta keep moving!" Monroe shouted.

"Just shut up and listen would you." Damien replied as all three stopped running.

He didn't want to believe Venezuelan Aircraft were going to swoop in and take out an abandoned base. Seventeen minutes and forty seconds in getting to the helipad, not a pin drop was heard. Damien told the others to keep moving. All of a sudden however, the tunnel they were in vibrated, nearly threw them off their footing. There were sounds of jets flying past them up top. Eventually, with only fourteen minutes on the clock they made it to the blast door. Next to it was an old access computer.

Cara ran to it and tried to get it to work; fortunately it only had 21% power. The vibrations in the tunnel were becoming more frequent, so Damien got out the list and read the first combination: F4-C7-665. It was invalid on the computer. He then tried the next one: G9-Q1-442. It was invalid once again; that was when he skipped to the fifth code that was more like a date than an actual code. Cara punched in for luck 3-22-1996; the blast door opened and not a moment too soon. Half the bridge behind them was destroyed. They didn't have time to process the reality of the situation. They hauled the rest of the way with only nine minutes and sixteen seconds to spare. It felt like a war zone out on the helipad; jets flew past the base, sending out rockets like they were determined to sink it without a trace. All except one made it to the gunship; Travers wasn't among the group.

"Where's Travers?!" Damien shouted to Terrell.

"He left something back at the briefing room." He said catching his breath. "He told Monica and I to wait for him here."

"Do you lot think we're going to stay here while we get shot at?! I'd say we leave!" Monroe said.

"What, we can't just leave 'im behind!" Monica said.

"He made his choice! Everyone inside!" Terrell told everyone.

Terrell manned the controls to the gunship. He had never flown any type of aircraft before so he had to wing it to get out of the hot zone. Luckily, he managed to get it off the pad and into the air, but they weren't out of the salty sea air yet. Two jets flew past them with plans of shooting them down. Monroe kept telling Terrell they needed to get the hell out of there fast. On the stern of the gunship, it had one gun turret and this gave him an idea. He took Terrell's gas mask and used it to cover his face so the jets wouldn't identify him. Suddenly, the entire base exploded in a red aura and reduces any jets within its radius to ash. The group got out of the area by only the skin of their teeth, but Monroe and the others couldn't believe what just happened. Once things were settling in the air, Damien sat down figuring out what to do next.

"I can't believe we let Sammy die down in that shit hole." Monica said sitting on the floor next to Damien. "Why didn't he tell me?"

"Us you mean?" Cara said. "How could he do this to us? We did everything he asked to get to this point to only get shot off by Venezuela Airspace?!"

"Eh, no offense to your boy toy Monica, but Travers was a right ass hole." Monroe said giving Terrell back his gas mask.

"He just told us to wait for him. What would he need in that briefing room that was so important." Terrell asked?

"Perhaps you should ask Monica." Damien said. "She knows him better than any of us here."

Terrell found a way to put the ship on auto-pilot as everyone stared at Monica for an explanation. She claimed she was attracted to the man, but nothing happened between them the whole month they were training. Monroe made the claim on a couple nights she would come back to the barracks late, sounding relaxed than the frustration Travers put on her in the exploration sessions. Monica baited the subject by acting appalled by the subtle accusations on her, especially after she stayed with them and not followed Travers because he forgot something. It almost turned into a heated argument, but Terrell didn't want to hear it.

"Enough!" He shouted. "If he lived he'd probably jumped into the sea and swam to shore. He wouldn't risk his life the way he did if he truly forgot something. This mission meant so much to him."

"If he lived, that would be very unrealistic." Monroe pointed out.

"He has a point. That blast incinerated the entire base and the jets surrounding it. We're on our own guys; no other way around that." Cara said.

"Where do we go from here?" Monica asked?

"To Norway; might as well get an adventure out of this." Damien said.

There was really no other choice at this point. They were out at sea in the middle of nowhere. Terrell agreed to go through with Norway and had Damien sit beside him to navigate. In all honesty, they didn't have homes to go to. Damien had a dying grandmother who was probably far gone in her condition; Terrell had family in Jamaica but left there at the age of 22 to go find his own way in the world. Cara left her boyfriend's home in Toronto to pursue a singing career which didn't fare her way, with Monroe's record England didn't wanted him back, and Monica didn't give a shit in her own right. Whether she went back to prison or died in the temple, it made no difference. They had their weapons, their training, and a goal. It didn't get much simpler than that. Damien got out the world map from his back pack and helped Terrell navigate.

In the interrogation room where the interview first started, Sherry was feeling more under the weather. More specifically, her eyes went dark and looked like she was about to cough up a lung. Damien tried getting her attention to see if she was alright; she started coughing and collapsed on the floor. He got up and opened the door for anyone to help her. One of National Security's personnel ran in and got Sherry out of the room. He shouted Adrien's name to come and get her to the hospital immediately. One of the agents guarding the door told him to stay put until someone else was going to collect him shortly after. With the door closed behind him, he was greeted by the likes of _her_ again. She gave him a stern look for a solid two minutes, and Damien didn't flinch at all. He wasn't shaking when he saw her; his chest didn't feel like three machetes slashing his skin, but for a man that was slowly dying on the inside he had a hell of a will to resist that truth.

"Is this the part where you torture me again?" Damien asked as she sat down in front of him.

"No." She nodded. "I'm not even mad at you right now. Truth be told, you make me sad seeing you sit there throwing your soul away, and for what? Things will not change for you."

"I've been thinking. Back in the temple, I _do_ remember what I did. I'm so sorry."

"Damien." She said.

An agent named Mark entered the room and told him Agent Birkin had grown ill at the moment. Nothing severe he said, but he was going to take him to a hotel where for two paid nights he was going to stay until it was time to bring him back. For the rest of the day Damien stayed at the Channel Inn to contemplate on how he was going to tell the next part of his story. Details were getting harder to remember about the later part in the temple. He tried writing down what he remembered but nothing was coming out of his head. It brought him immense frustration. He got up from his hotel room desk and used both his hands to press on his forehead. After he drank some water and sat back down, something clear was written from the chicken scratches and scribbles he made.

"_Your soul is mine!"_

The cold, spine shivering Damien was feeling at that point, she was nearby.

"This is much better." she said as Damien saw her sitting on the bed. "I'm impressed Damien, keeping your chest injury from showing over there, coherently telling your tall tale." She continued as she whispered next to his right ear. _"I guess you're not losing it after all…"_

39


	3. Part II: The Arrival

Temple of Kurinthian

Part II: The Arrival

Sirens were whizzing by on busy highways as Sherry was being driven to the hospital. Her skin was pale, eyes darkened, looking like she was wasting away. When it came to injuries, her damaged cells would regenerate and flush out the toxins from the source of the wound. It was one of the few advantages of the G-Virus in her DNA. A few months had passed since the China outbreak; her mind had been on constant work mode since coming back to the states. With what has happened there with the C-Virus she hasn't been getting enough sleep; two to three and half hours at the most.

Her friend, Claire Redfield, received test results of Sherry's tox-screen when the G-Virus in her started fighting back. It was hypothesized by Claire that she may have contracted something from China, and it was slowly eating away at her regenerative cells. TerraSave provided a concoction not revealed to the public. It was a combination of sleeping medicine, Vitamin C, and old G-Virus vaccine that was supposed to make its attributes stronger, and fend off any other contaminants in the body. Other theories were stress and not getting enough sustenance to keep her functioning throughout the day.

For over a course of fifteen months, the medicine had been enough to keep the G-Virus in her strong without being tempted to cause mutation. Within those months when the work was becoming too strenuous for her, one night at the office there was a live news feed of the Vice President giving a State of the Union Address. It was based on the cover up story behind Raccoon City. 2 hours and ten minutes the fragile world had to endure on the television screen, live, and on the internet. Those who had lost loved ones from that horrendous incident were able to feel a sense of peace, that the Government had made a connection to its people for once. It gave Sherry some relief for the truth to get out there, though for her it was 16 years too late. It didn't bring her parents back from their twisted experiments. Three months to the present time, her body had been acting up again, deteriorating.

Only this time she didn't feel like she was on fire or her limbs breaking like they were going to mutate. The doctors who were taking a look at her did a full body scan and found high concentrations of that same medicine; it was becoming too strong for the G-Virus to fight against. They couldn't explain it. At first, they thought she had a high metabolism. Sherry wasn't really a normal woman to stick a needle into. When all physical tests were completed, they declared her cured a couple days later. She was kept under observation for four hours to see if there was any change in her skin color, but for a local hospital there was nothing much they could do. The only hope left in Sherry's case was if Claire's department found something soon so she could live her life again. During those four hours all she could think about was Jake, and him acting as an anti-virus killing off whatever was killing _her_. Too bad his anti-bodies only got rid of C cells.

At the Channel Inn, Damien took a long, hot shower to get the stink of sweat and old booze off of him. He didn't think of anything else. By the time he got out, he felt like a whole new man with a clear head in how to tell the next part of his experience in Norway. Details were still sketchy; his brain felt like a bunch of old gears in need of some elbow grease in order to work again. He walked out of the bathroom with robe worn, went to the desk to get rid of the scribbles he had made. What was shocking about that, were the words "Soon, your soul will be mine" was cut out of the paper, but that meant little to him. He threw the paper away and got dressed into his old clothes. Luckily there was soft air freshener to get the musky smell off them. He was facing the TV as he was getting dressed when suddenly he heard a knock coming from the hotel room door. Damien got up to see who it was.

"Who's there?" He asked.

A small, shadowy figure stood at the doorway. It was already evening and Damien already had the lights on. At first he assumed the National Security Agent who brought him to the hotel left him something useful. He doubted it, but what he's been through nothing's really out of the ordinary. He turned the ceiling light on and there revealed a package; the size of a cell phone box. When he turned around, she appeared looking at the window.

"Not yet Damien." She said in a cold tone. "I said it once; you're going to tell that blonde girl what you did or this "disease" won't end well for you."

"I should probably say nothing right? You won't leave me alone, and some part of me doesn't want you to."

"I left my mark on you. Those like me, means something to us. Pretty soon you will give up fighting your gift; think about it Damien. You've been in pain for a decade while your so-called medicine has been masking the problem. Do you not want it to stop?"

"Nine years, Venezia." He replied calling her name for the first time. "I've been suffering these scars for nine years. Why pick now to come and talk to me? You can't answer that can you? Well, I'm going to bed." He said before looking at her one last time. "I am _truly_ sorry for whatever I did."

He closed his eyes and slept through the early hours of the night, hoping to wake up normally the next morning. As he slept, memories of the temple came back to him. Back at his apartment he dreamt of three bridges with Scarab bugs coming out of the ceiling. He couldn't count how many, but from what he remembered from Terrell's knowledge of the temple, the Scarabs were the keepers of the Valhallan Elixir. He still tried to gather what was following them though, he, Cara, and Terrell. The nightmare went dark and a scream was heard; that was when he woke up. The memories played out in a smooth motion; the images were still shady. Blood in one image, someone fighting a soldier of sorts in the other. However if there was one thing he would always remember with absolute certainty, were the Kurinthian Queens. The next day he got a knock on his hotel door. It was the Agent, Mark Omahan who drove him to the hotel in the first place.

"Good morning, Mr. Walsh. Sleep well?" He asked.

"More or less." Damien replied. "Am I heading back to National Security now?"

"Indeed. But first, shut the door behind you." He said as he walked into the room.

"This is turning into a habit." Damien said to himself. "How's Agent Birkin?"

"Precisely what I came here for. Sherry is a remarkable woman Mr. Walsh. I'd hate to get her hopes up if this hunch of hers is false. The department has been engulfed in gossip about this "Wesker" connection. But if you can do us both a favor, when you tell your story to her in the interrogation room alter the details a bit. Make her feel like she's onto something astounding."

"And if I say no?" He asked in suspicion?

"You want to go back to jail? Sherry stole a tremendous opportunity from me. She went to Edonia, China, and fought alongside with the most wanted mercenary on the eastern seaboard. Above all that, he cured more than half the population from the C-Virus. I was next in line; you wouldn't understand."

"Listen pal, I don't know what happened in this world recently, and to be honest I don't give a shit. After Norway, I was far removed from society. Now, you threaten me with jail time?" He asked while asserting himself,

"It's against protocol to bring in stray has-beens like you to conduct fantasies. These are sensitive times. One thing did ring true about you though; that time you were arrested for stealing heart medication nine years ago, one of your accomplices confessed he was high as he beat down a couple security officers. They would've been dead if the cops hadn't showed up. They also confessed you being behind the whole break in; that means I can tie you to your decade old crime plus the lies you've been feeding to Agent Birkin. You'll both be taken into custody; this time you both will be in jail."

"You're ridiculous, man." Damien said.

"Let me reiterate." The agent shouted before Damien grabbed his neck.

Damien's sudden impulse felt intentional to him as he grabbed hold of Mark's neck. He was losing control of his actions; Venezia stood next to him as he enticed him to tighten his grip and see the purple and blue covering his face. Damien was the type of guy who didn't take threats from others lightly; hence the message he gave Jeeves about skimming his paychecks. He fought the inner urge as hard as he could so he wouldn't submit to what Venezia had been offering. Soon after, he released him while enduring a little chest burning as a result.

This got Mark all wound up, kept saying it was finally true, and that his real superiors would reward him handsomely if he were to take Damien alive. He on the other hand didn't understand what he was talking about. Mark almost let slip of his true devotion, if not for National Security, then what? But he kept to himself; he wanted to see what else Damien can do besides show aggression. Suddenly, he got a call from Adrien telling him Sherry checked out of the hospital ten minutes prior. She was going to be brought back to the office. Mark told him he had Damien ready and was going to drive him back himself. He closed his phone soon after and confronted him before heading out.

"I look forward to see what other gifts she has given you." Mark said as he extended his right hand and nearly placed it on Damien's chest.

"Back off." He said gripping his hand mid-way.

"Let's not do this, Mr. Walsh; not here." Mark implied while his eyes changed colors a fast second. "Follow me to the company car."

Both took off from the hotel and went back to the National Security building. For the first time in nine years, Damien wanted Venezia sitting right next to him, and telling him what the hell he just experienced. That's when he remembered about the blackberry phone being sent to his hotel door. He managed to turn it on before Mark showed up, but didn't think to turn on the audio recorder so he would get the chance to expose him for the things he said. He wanted more info from Mark though. Damien took out his own phone from his back pocket and began texting someone he knew. Mark grew suspicious of what he was doing so he asked who he was texting. Damien played it cool by saying it was nobody important. Unfortunately, the blackberry was a company phone that beeps if you turn on the audio recorder. The message was originally a draft he saved a few months ago, about some sort of delivery he wanted to check on. By the time they got to the building, Damien got out of the car as Mark escorted him inside.

"How long you've had those eyes, Mark." He asked as they were walking?

"That's highly concrete information, Mr. Walsh. Just do what I told you when telling your story and I'll overlook your little crime."

"There's the Chief Advisor. He doesn't look happy to see you."

"Eh, he's no worse than Simmons." Mark replied.

Adrien went up to them and welcomed Damien back to continue telling his story to Sherry. He relieved Mark of his duties and they made their way towards the interrogation room.

"Is Agent Birkin okay?" Damien asked.

"False alarm." Adrien said with uncertainty.

"You don't sound convinced; if you don't mind me saying."

"I'm weary of everyone, Damien. Half a year into this job and I'm still getting rid of collateral damage Simmons has caused. Agent Omahan, the one who took you to the hotel and brought you back here, he was one of Simmons' number one fans."

"That so; why do you keep him around?"

"One question too many." Adrien said as both reached the interrogation room. "Agent Birkin is convinced that your story holds weight to this Wesker connection. But if I find out you've been falsifying a forgotten story, you can kiss your reclusion goodbye."

Damien understood the advisor's terms as he opened the door to a newly restored Sherry. She got her skin color back while drinking coffee while she waited for Damien to come by. Before he left he asked Sherry if there was anything she needed just let him know. He left them both to it once again.

"Welcome back Mr. Walsh." Sherry said as both shook hands.

"You look better." Damien replied as he sat down.

"A common cold; almost turned into pneumonia."

"Wow. But yeah, let's pick up where we left off." He said before Sherry turned on the audio recorder. _"So the other participants and I were running on the bridges trying to get to the gunship, and I don't know if those jets were paid off by someone or not but they swooped in and kept blasting the place to shreds. Terrell managed to pilot the gunship before a red aura eviscerated the entire base behind us. Travers was the only one who didn't make it; at least...at least that's what we thought."_

"_What about this red aura? Did Travers mention anything of the sort before heading out to the Temple?"_

"_He was vague on a lot of questions we asked about Kurinthian. All he said was the place was haunted, the White and Red Queens were the guardians of the temple, and no one has gone to that part of Norway since the nineties. Terrell tried to piece together what we were supposed to find as Intel to bioterrorism, but the language on some of the files were in Norwegian, and I didn't think to ask Cara about the translation dictionary Travers gave her."_

"_How long was the trip from Venezuela to Norway?"_

"_We almost ran out of fuel."_

Twenty-three hours, fifty-six minutes, and twelve seconds it took them from vacating the blast radius from the base, to find them-selves hovering over an old forest in Norway. The way the gunship's windows were fogging up, it was cold out there. The wind chill slipping through the ship's cracks gave each of them a preview of what to expect. Apart from them flying, it was pretty quiet; no locals let alone living things to occupy the area. Damien held up the map to tell Terrell where they were; they were in the right area but so far no temple was in sight. Monica then told him to open the ship's front hatch so she could get a scent going; her sense of taste was of no one's preference, but her nose was something useful. She smelled peculiar things; like thin strands of cologne, rotting meat, when she stuck her head out the air was as thick as maple syrup. Fuel was running low and the windows at this point were impossible to see.

"I'm going to have to land in some forest down there. We'll hoof it the rest of the way." Terrell told everyone.

"Are we close?" Cara asked

"I'm not sure." He replied.

"What're y'all afraid of?" Monica said. "City boy's the one who agreed to this scary detour. Might as well make the best of it."

"Let's just land so I don't puke." Monroe said holding his revolver close.

Terrell did his best to maneuver the gunship as they were descending. He found a clearing around some dead trees; it was the right place to get the scare factor going. Suddenly, a thick tree branch hit the stern of the gunship and alarms were going off like crazy. It landed with the front end on the pilot side below to the ground while its tail end was still stuck on the branch. Everyone gathered what they were able carry, which wasn't a whole lot. They jumped out and got some distance before the ship's alarms attracted anything to it.

The entire forest was quiet; the alarms stopped and surprisingly no explosion went off. However, some people of the group felt they were up shit's creek. They basically lost their only way out of Norway if things went bad. They gathered around each other and laid down their supplies. The lack of an armory back at the base left a whole lot to be desired; Travers firmly believed they were going to go to the temple, collect the mystery Intel and slip out. Everyone had basic pistols: P99s that are easy to wield and conceal.

They contained eight bullets in each, and that was about it on the ammo side of that gun. Some other items they had were unique to each member. Monica had a bowie knife with engraved snake designs on the hilt. That was all she needed for some intimate time with B.O.W.s. Monroe took a Python, fully loaded, and three flash bang grenades to cause some distractions. Cara had a Springfield sniper rifle and an ability to sing to keep anything evil in a sleeping state.

On the off days during the month she would sit in the barracks with journal in hand, and wrote lyrics that were going to benefit the whole group. She also brought an English/Norwegian Dictionary to translate any mystical scriptures. Travers had a way of getting everyone overly prepared for a temple expedition. Terrell carried a twelve gauge with only twelve shells loaded; out of the five people he was the most protected armor wise. He was wearing military armor and carried a knapsack of walkie talkies he salvaged from the gunship. However, there were only two of them. He also carried a Swiss army knife for any stealth kills. Damien only had the P99 and two grenades. At the time everyone else had the good stuff and ammo was scarce enough as it was.

"Check your ammo whenever you can." Terrell told everyone. "With any luck, we won't have to fire a single shot, keep this trip a clean one."

"Ya know me, T. I _always _clean my plate after a big meal." Monica said.

"You keep those prison stories to yourself." Monroe said. "I still get jitters about that spooning job you did on that 500lb lesbian."

"Hey, I was ditzy with tranquilizers so I need a soft, human pillow to lean on."

"Shh, Terrell said trying to listen to his surroundings, you guys hear that?"

"It's too quiet." Cara whispered.

"We're being watched. How often do you feel air coat onto your skin." Damien asked?

"Alright listen, according to the map we are just a day's walk to the Temple. Most likely there would be fences surrounding it, but it's been abandoned for some time so we'll just have to climb over them. Now the structure itself is really large; almost the size of a mansion. We'll have to stick together if we're going to find the Intel. I was able to find some walkies from the gunship, but there's only two. I'll keep one and Cara has the other."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa wait a second. Why does burrito breath get a walkie and I don't?" Monica asked?

"Cause she's the most resourceful one here. If you ask my opinion, Terrell can use his walkie to find an open space with acoustics so she could keep more monsters off us." Damien explained.

"But we don't know what's in there." Monroe expressed.

"My words exactly. We move until nightfall and set up camp. Anybody got a flashlight?" Terrell asked as everyone nodded "no". "Scope lights will have to do. Remember, stay alert as we move through these trees. Who knows what happened to them."

Hedmark, Norway; for a country with only 27% covered in forests alone, the forest they were in felt they went on for miles. With each hour passing with the direction of the sun, the feel of the air left their skin and flowed all around them, but from Monica's sense of smell, the slight scent of perfume and rotting meat still hugged the air. When nighttime hit they were in the middle of the forest with no temple in sight. Before the un-happy landing the trees were vibrant yet ordinary to anyone familiar with what trees look like. These trees at night looked dried out; some formed spooky shapes to throw travelers off guard. By nightfall, Terrell stopped everyone and said they were going to rest for the night. Cara kept squinting around to see if there was a cave to rest but no such luck. Terrell asked Damien to walk with him while the others settled in around the small campsite they've created. He was grateful that he wasn't walking alone.

"Thanks for coming along, Damien."

"Don't sweat it; we need a comfort hole or a cave to rest. Besides, I'm not all that tired yet," Damien replied.

"How are you and Monica?"

"We stay out of each other's hair we'll be fine. She never really liked me to begin with."

"If we're going to survive whatever's over there, we need to work together."

"I trust you and Cara. Monroe, he said before thinking about him, jury's still out on him."

"Both literally and figuratively, both chuckled, I tried to reason with Monica, but she feels like she didn't have a say in whether or not to come here. You pretty much made the decision for all of us."

"It was in the heat of the moment. For my grandmother, I wanted to give her space."

"My family didn't like the choices I've made either. When my father got killed during a village raid it was only me and my three brothers protecting our family. We didn't agree on how to take care of our mother during the tough times. Then other villages saw my mother as a breeding tool and tried to take her by force."

"Jesus why?"

"All of the men in the villages had wives who couldn't handle the dominant male. I knew where they were coming from; my father always treated mother with respect and survived together instead of who's the strongest. Most of the women left either in pieces thrown in a stream, or ran for their lives."

"What happened to your mother?"

"My brothers and I sat outside our village home and wait for the savages to arrive. When they did, we confronted them with endearing words telling them to stay away. When that failed, we resorted to breaking jaws and nut sacs."

"Ha, sweet." Damien said.

"They got the message pretty quick. Next day, most of the men, he said before hearing something in the trees, get down."

They hid in the bushes while turning on the flashlights of their hand guns. There was no moonlight to guide them back to the others; suddenly the bushes behind them were rustling, turning to loud footsteps pressing on the ground. Terrell was the first to feel something was behind him so he turned around. It was Monroe making all the noise.

"Christ almighty!" Monroe exclaimed. "Good thing I found you two."

"What the hell are you doing out here?!Damien asked?!

"Where are the others?"

"Monica scouted out ahead to find some shelter. As for Cara, she might be onto something."

They both followed Monroe back to the last place they rested. Cara was nowhere to be seen; Terrell was getting nervous. They stuck together and zigzagged through the woods; hearts were pounding with the anticipation of something to jump out at them and eat them alive was the first obvious choice. Damien noticed some more rustling in the distance and followed its direction; soon they were following sounds upon a singular course. All of sudden, a shadow jumped in front of them and back into the confines of the forest.

They stopped for a second and whispered Cara and Monica's names; they went commando to wherever the sounds were taking them. Soon after, two shadows jumped over Damien and Monroe; passing growling noises that nearly made Monroe piss him-self. With the fear and adrenaline pumping through their veins, it seemed like they weren't going to get any sleep, and before they knew it a grey sun rose on the horizon a few hours later. The sun was covered in grey fog; instead of the air clenching their skin there was moisture in the air. It gave the three runners the idea they just endured a down pour not too long prior. The forest was then consumed by the fog, separating all three of them.

They took out their guns and stayed alert while moving through. Moisture crept over Damien's brows and it caused him to lose focus. He learned from explorers training that the second you take your eye off the path is the moment you are truly lost. Well, in his case, he couldn't see what was around him. He called out Monroe and Terrell's name; no reply was given. Then a deep hum surrounded the forest; it started out in a melody, like two voices humming at the same time. Then words were echoed, leaving chills in everyone who was able to hear them. They were said in Norwegian tongue.

"_O› roser mektig guder, vi ydmykt din vilje_

_Krig har sprunget, spør vi din hjelp_

_Blod er vårt renser, inspirerer det å slåss_

_Demoner og ulver gjennom forferdelsen av natten_

_Vær så snill å før våre hender å bygge denne helligdomen_

_Vi tjener ydmykt, Tempel av Gudenes"_

_(O' mighty gods, we humbly praise your will_

_War has sprung, we ask your help_

_Blood is our cleanse, it inspires to fight_

_Demons and wolves through the horrors of night_

_Please guide our hands to build this shrine_

_We humbly serve, Temple of Gods…)_

The fog cleared and showed a bunch of symbols in the dirt, leading a straight path to the source of the words. Surprisingly enough, it led to Cara looking through attached vines that were presented as a barrier. Damien couldn't believe she would be able to pull it off; there were no acoustics and to some, she wasn't that good of a singer. Monroe and Terrell eventually caught up to Cara on a job well done, but not even Terrell was entirely convinced in how she did it. She knew where all three were coming from. She said she heard the same humming the night before Monica went looking for shelter. She felt like she was being pulled into another world as the humming graced a welcoming path to the temple itself.

She couldn't explain it any better than that. Monica was still nowhere to be found. Cara touched the vines and they came to life as they pulled away from each other to open a new path. They finally arrived. As they walked through, the Temple of Kurinthian was just as vast as it was described in old articles and files. The path way was wide yet still covered in thick mist, but they were able to see faded yellow tape, warning people not to pass. Suddenly, Cara was grabbed and was shoved to the ground. Damien and Monroe got startled and retraced their steps. However, they heard her voice and lifted two bodies from the ground.

"What's goin on, people?" Monica said to everyone. "Hey, we found the temple."

"It was Cara who found it. Where the hell were you?" Damien asked.

"_She_ did that?" She asked in shock. "Major props home girl!"

"What's wrong with your eyes?" Terrell asked before checking out her weird behavior? "What have you been taking?"

"Say what now? Mind bathing the man-scape before pressing up on me." Monica said as Terrell did not flinch. "In prison, they gave gals like me something to calm our nerves. I felt shaky from the fly over here so I took some."

"Give us the pill bottle." Damien demanded.

"Or what city boy; you gonna take it?" She asked as she broke free of Terrell's grip. "Make a move. C'mon man, grow a pair and take them from me."

Cara got fed up with Monica and punched her straight in the face. She then made her a promise.

"You're becoming an annoying burden to the group. If you can't fall in line for the sake of survival, then we don't need you."

"Ha ha, she laughed in pain, this bitch actually hit me."

"I'll do a lot more if you keep getting high and become a threat." Cara promised.

"Oh, you can do a lot more to me? Sorry honey, bean eatin pussy's not my thang."

"Let's keep moving." Terrell said placing his hand on Cara's shoulder. "She's not worth it."

Monica was left to her deluded nature, feeling excruciating pain on her face. She didn't think that was possible from someone like Cara. As they walked towards the temple they took the time to take in how glorious it was from the outside. Archer Kurinthian was quite the authentic sort when it came to Norse Mythology; the mystery was what happened to his daughter and what kind of monster killed him. In the distance they came across a gate you can only see leading into haunted houses. It was old, full of rust but climbable.

Terrell nudged Damien's shoulder about having second thoughts about coming to Norway. Damien said they couldn't turn back; the gunship was out of juice and commission. In his own way he wanted this trip to happen. It was the only way to keep his mind off his grandmother and her heart condition. Monroe was just as tall as Terrell so he was the first to climb over the gate and helped Cara over in suit. A gunshot was fired just before Damien was over the gate; it almost grazed Terrell's shoulder.

"Keep heading inside. I'm going to go check it out." He told them running back into the fog.

He ran back the way they came as the fog was closing in behind him. Cara looked at the temple and saw her unknowing efforts were still effective. Damien wanted to know how she did it in the first place. She explained how zen she was and meditated through the quiet nature of the forest. She used to do this with her mother back in Acapulco, Mexico as a young girl. Times were tough in Mexico back then she said, but meditation helped a lot. When she heard the deep humming, it filled her heart with inspiration and sang someone else's words in Norwegian tongue. That part was weird for her; she only glanced over the Norwegian translation at the base but still couldn't speak the language yet. Suddenly after waiting a few minutes for Terrell to come back with Monica, the door to the temple began to close.

"We got to go. The door's closing up." Damien told Cara before running.

"Get a move on, luv!" Monroe said!

"Get your ass in gear, T. We need you." Cara said to herself before joining the others.

They made across the winding bridge that extended from the main gate to the inside with only the door closing halfway down. When all three got in, Damien saw Terrell in the distance with Monica. With raised vocal cords, he kept shouting at them to move faster. Both made it in when the entrance was crawling friendly. Monica almost lost her right hand from its narrowness but it woke her up from a drug induced frenzy with the group. For the moment the temple was extremely dark, nothing but their voices to detect each other.

Terrell said he couldn't get a good look at the shooter; he looked like he was whispering something into Monica's ear. She couldn't really tell them who it was since the face was covered. He knew ammo was scarce amongst the group; he wrestled the mysterious figure until he grabbed him with one hand and threw Terrell five feet away from where Monica was. He didn't have time to go after the shooter so he grabbed her and hustled past the temple door. Everyone turned on flashlights on their handguns and spread out to get their bearings.

Monroe noticed a piece of red markings from a stone wall he was pointing his gun at. He alerted everyone to see what he found. Damien and he aimed their beams at the wall; the markings turned into some form of Norwegian script. Cara took a look and had a feeling the script was jumbled. Suddenly, Monica found a lever that was snake shaped. When her light was on it, the lever hissed and started attacking her. She struggled as everyone got alarmed and ran to help. Grabbing the snake at its mid-drift she threw it on the ground and stomped her right foot on it.

"Christ, what just happened?" Monroe asked.

"Keep your snickers on or whateva' you brits call it." She said catching her breath. "What do you know; a snake lever tried gnawing on my face."

"Um, there's still something under your foot." Damien said aiming his gun.

Red goo was alive and made an ear piercing sound, almost like it just had its last dying breath. The goo knocked Monica down and jumped through the wall where the script was. Terrell aimed his flashlight at it again and a portion of the script rearranged itself. Cara said it formed into two words, "I am." She said the rest would have to be deciphered in order to continue. The next part happened when a ghost of a forgotten warrior came into view and attacked Terrell specifically. According to his armor, he was of Asgard, under Odin's order back in Norse Mythos.

The ghost raised his blade as Terrell placed his twelve gauge on his back, and took out his army knife. Both got into a defensive stance. From Damien's point of view, Terrell was just going along with the situation. When they sparred, three other creatures came out to face the other bystanders. An Eikþyrnir emerged as a gold spirit but was only seen from Cara's eyes. This creature was a Stag: a faithful creature to King Odin and a celestial being from the afterlife, Valhalla. It didn't attack her, but it spoke in Norwegian tongue. Suddenly the entire room went still.

"_Hvorfor har du kommet her?_

(Why have you come here?)

Cara did her best to wing whatever Norwegian language she studied. She felt she didn't have enough time to go through her translation book.

"Um, she while thinking of the words, _du er et vakkert kreatur." _(You are a beautiful creature.)

The stag didn't take too kindly as she reacted to Cara's answer as an evasion.

"_Du unngår mitt spørsmål. La meg ser hvis din hjerte vil vise sannheten."_

(You evade my question. Let's see if your heart will show the truth.)

Monroe picked up a holographic hammer with an enticing blue glow. He was hesitant in picking it up at first; then a wolf creature emerged from the shadows with an angrily focused stare ready to kill him. The wolf pushed forward and Monroe jumped backwards and lost footing. He stood back up and looked around him as the others were in their struggle. He made a sarcastic comment about how they were so helpful, but strange enough he thought back to the Berretta he saw at the base, how it once belonged to a legendary man back in Raccoon City. He then gripped the hammer as if it was actually in his grasp and swung it at the wolf; the wolf went flying and splattered blue goo which rearranged the next set of the script.

He congratulated himself on how it wasn't so hard, still under the impression he kept the hammer when realizing it faded away. While the struggle continued, Damien found himself facing a woman; not just any type, but someone of great power. She appeared in silver battle armor with a crown that looked to be made out of ice. She had eyes that could take a human's soul, play around with it, and control it just with half a smile slanted to the left. In a way, that was Damien's challenge, resisting his inner demons to control him.

It showed him images; a future where his days grew silent as his body deteriorated to a mere shell. He kept looking away at the images until the womanly spirit ceased her power, and turned into white goo for the third set of the script. The Stag stole its' eyes from what lurked in Cara's heart and looked to her with a sense of sympathy. She granted herself to be in Cara's service before turning into the next part of the puzzle. Terrell was the only one left to deal with the last piece.

"Shouldn't we help him?" Cara asked Damien.

"He's got to solve this on his own."

"Keep your eyes wide, people! I reckon more traps heading our way." Monica told everyone.

Terrell kept blocking the warrior's attacks until he saw an amulet made out of teal green amber. It was located within the confines of the spirit. He kicked the sword out of the warrior's hand and was about to retrieve it. The warrior grabbed his hand as electric shocks were preventing him from getting it. Terrell pushed through with 3,000 volts running through his body and grabbed the amulet as he fell backwards. It dropped from his hand and into a corner of the entrance area. The Asgardian warrior picked up his sword and limped his way to Terrell; he noticed a soft center that appeared on the amulet. He stabbed it twice, seeing the amber crack, and the third time demolished it to pieces with the last piece of the script rearranged. He told everyone to keep quiet for a minute in case another surprise had hit them. Monroe exhaled and Damien ran over to help him up.

"That was some good sparring, my friend." Damien praised him.

"That wasn't sparring." Terrell replied as he patted Damien on the back. "That was sheer luck. Whoo."

"Whatever it was we finally got the full text on the wall, hopefully in the right place." Monroe said. "Uh…right Cara?"

"Let me sort through the translation first." Cara said looking through her book.

"Not too shabby there. We're gonna be one hell of a duo once we meet those B.O.W. bastards." Monica commended him.

"Save it." Damien said. Once we're through you're explaining yourself on what happened out there."

"Like hell I will. You're not the fucking Warden, city boy." She replied.

The Norwegian script presented itself as a riddle Cara said. In translation it read, "I am a seething substance. I enter twice at the same time, leaving a burning sensation in your skin. I kill within minutes if not extracted. What am I?" They thought about the answer for a moment, until Monroe came up with a guess that was not too far off. He mentioned acid as it was a burning substance of the skin. Monica said it might have been scorpion poison since it kills within moments. Damien took a crack at it with Terrell following suit; both said "snake venom". Damien then asked her what was Norwegian for snake venom; she shouted _SLANGEGIFT_.

The wall opened to the lower level of the temple; a hall the size of a football stadium with six dark passage ways on both sides with dimly lit torches showing the way. What was weird to Terrell was the fact a temple being so well crafted and brought back into modern society, there wasn't much inside to admire. But that wasn't the case for him; the place they were in barely had any light and whatever lurked in the darkness could attack them just as easily as those small obstacles they had to deal with. Cara reminded everyone to turn on the flashlights of their hand guns before moving forward. Terrell looked at a crinkled map of the temple in his back pocket; the map still dated back to the late 1990s because there were no updates on Kurinthian's involvement in its architecture.

Ever since the mysterious attacks on Norwegian citizens, the media covering the story of what happened and who were involved either got fired for false information, or suffered an untimely end. Monica saw an opening from where they were; it began to rain but there was no cause for alarm yet. Well, until Terrell recalled something from his research findings. It turned out the place they were in was the Garden of Ragnarok (Hage av Ragnarok). The old architects who made the temple in the first place had Acanthus plants.

They were a crucial element when it came to burials and tombs. There were garden bushes filled with raspberries, roots growing on the walls like vines. Ginseng root he called them. Terrell said the rain coming down from the roof was a very steep one. Once every fifty years since the temple's inception, there would be a massive rainstorm for seven days straight in one part of Norway. With that much rain water it kept the plants and bushes nourished and vibrant of life, which was greatly needed since what was observed beforehand was dry and dead. Unfortunately, the passageways on both sides of the garden area were cut off; a rockslide from what Monica saw.

"One grenade should do." She said to Terrell before he stopped her.

"You don't know what's on the other side. What if it's a dead end, or another trap?"

"We won't know unless we find out."

"We just got here." Damien said. "I counted twelve of these passages on our way in. There's got to be one we can move rubble to get through."

"He's right." Terrell agreed before letting the others know. "Everyone spread out and look around each blocked passage. If you can move the rubble, call either me or Damien so we can push it together."

"You got it." Cara said before trailing off.

"W-wait, can I go with her?" Monroe asked as everyone left him in the center of the garden. "Be brave, Davis, don't shit yourself. It's just a creepy garden; creepy and revolting."

Each went to an individual passage to look for a way inside. As Terrell walked past each of the six on the left side of the garden, he kept thinking to himself how much did Archer Kurinthian accomplish when he and his team of architects were fixing the place. The rubble was limestone and mortar, but thick chunks were blocking the path. Damien found one he could squeeze through if he didn't take any firearms with him while Monroe found another passage that he could see through the cracks. He called out to Terrell and showed him what he found. Suddenly, a sound of a rock hitting the ground gave him the jitters; Terrell asked if he was doing okay.

Monroe had never been to this part of the world before, let alone entered an historical landmark. He aimed his flashlight through but couldn't get a good look on what was on the other side. Then, a shape of a face was shown with red eyes. Both backed away without hesitation, and Terrell told him to avoid this particular passage for the time being. Meanwhile, Cara went over to where Damien was and noticed he found a way through. She contacted Terrell and the rest went over to see if the rubble was moveable.

Monica, Damien, and Monroe pushed with all their strength, but the rubble was too dense and too interconnected to the walls that nothing was going to move them. Damien suggested about squeezing under a clearing to see the other side; Monica agreed wholeheartedly. However, Cara was the smallest of the group and wanted to take the risk herself. She put aside her sniper rifle and took out her combat knife as she crawled without struggling. By the time she got through, darkness surrounded her. She asked for someone to slide a gun her way; she then aimed around corners for any traps. On the ground she found a treasure chest of sorts; it was made out of bamboo with the Midgard Serpent insignia on top.

It had a lock on it though. She told the others to keep looking at the other passages as she was trying to break it open. Terrell offered to stay behind in case any surprises came up. Monica shook her head in disappointment before walking away. She then found a new passage that looked to be cleared without shedding any light on it; she went toward and heard the sound of something squishy under her left foot. She thought to herself not this again; it wasn't alive this time.

Aiming her light on her foot, she slowly pressed against the wall and found a disturbing sight. Her heart was beating as she stood motionless, thinking about her next move. She shed light on the clear passage and suddenly found a deformed face in the shape of a mask. She only saw it for three quick seconds before hiding behind another corner. She then turned toward the open passage again and a face of a mutated wolf was up close and personal with hers. She panicked and fired three shots at it before alerting the others; whatever was wearing the wolf's head was in the shape of a gorilla. It pushed Monica out of the way before jumping into the newly established pool the water's been coming from. Everyone ran to her and Damien saw the same thing as well. A corpse rose from the water and had its back turned, viewing its surroundings with eerie vibes making his skin crawl. It was in the shape of a man and a wolf at the same time.

"I told you ammo is not on our side right now." Terrell whispered to Monica.

"I panicked, gimme a break." Monica replied. "I still got five in the chamber."

"I think we should stand very still so it can't track our scent." Monroe suggested.

"Cara, Terrell said on his walkie talkie, stay where you are. I think we just encountered our first monster."

"We can't just stay here." Damien whispered. "We gotta find a way out now."

The deformed beast stood in front, and faced them with labored breathing and one direction. Terrell took a chance and aimed his light at the monster's face. Both of its' eyeballs were scratched out, dried out scars were present all over its' pale yet masculine exterior. Monica came up with an idea in luring the monster to move the debris from the passage ways. Cara then showed the others what she found in the chest. It was a piece of treasure made of obsidian compound.

Not only was it oval-shaped, but it was hollow on the inside and tough on the outside. Monica swiped it from her and tossed it at the ground three feet from where the beast was standing like a statue. The impact of the drop made an acoustic, pin drop noise and glowed gold. The beast walked to it and didn't act in hostility. Instead it sat in front of the artifact Indian style, and it lent off a calmer side that was assumed only the color "gold" can do. Terrell told Monica since she tossed it she would have to get it. For some strange reason, she didn't think the beast would be capable in doing anything rash.

She held out her gun and pasted her steps close to the ground so her footsteps wouldn't echo off in the garden. Once she stood behind the artifact, she slowly bent down and placed her left hand over it to pick it up; so far so good she thought. Cara asked Damien if they should find another way to distract the beast somehow, and Terrell adamantly mentioned she nearly got the group killed if the beast wasn't already blind. All four waited for some kind of outcome to happen. The beast followed the glow as Monica walked backwards into one of the passages; it was next to the one where Monroe saw red eyes through the rubble's cracks.

Monroe sweated a bit as they were biting their lips. Monica standing her ground, stopped with her back pressed on the rubble. The beast stared blind into the glow as her brain shut down, body temperature increased, and drowned out all other sounds. She took it and gently tapped the rubble as it lent off another pin drop sound. Suddenly, the beast roared ferociously; Monica slid under its hind legs to haul ass back to the group. Everyone had their guns ready; then the beast punched out the rubble and started throwing pieces behind him to clear the passage way.

"It worked." Monica told everyone as they looked at her with concern. "Uh, Damien it's your turn."

She tossed the artifact to him and the beast became instantly aware of its location. It roared once more as it ran to Damien; he hoofed it to one of the other passage ways and dropped the glowing treasure a few inches away. The beast stopped and got on one knee to stare into the glow. Damien placed his right hand over his mouth to keep his inhaling from being heard. He then tip toed toward the treasure to pick it up. It snarled at him at first, but he picked it up with the beast's head raising with it.

Acting with quick timing, he made the pin drop noise against the rubble and suddenly was grabbed by the neck with loud roars drowning out any background noise. Damien used his knife to stab its hand and he dropped flat on his ass. He grabbed the obsidian piece and ran back. As before, rubble was mindlessly being tossed. When another passage way was cleared, Terrell asked if Damien saw anything; he mentioned some kind of plant that didn't seem to belong with the other tree toots and plants in the garden. Terrell took the obsidian piece this time to get the beasts' attention, and told everyone to look through the two open passages for anything useful. As he was distracting it, Cara saw something red and green that looked very distinguished to her. She ran to get a closer look. As for Monroe and Monica, they checked out the other passage and found a revolving stone wall. Monroe pushed forward and out of nowhere both were sent to the other side, separating from the others.

"_Cara, talk to me. Did you find anything?" _Terrell asked over his walkie talkie?

"_Herbs I think; red and green herbs. They might come in handy later on."_

"_Take them with you. Find either Monica or Damien and see if they found a way out on the other passage."_

"_On my way." _She replied.

Terrell kept the beast at bay when he placed the glowing artifact of the ground. Every time he took a step to the side though, the beast moved with him. Cara went over with Damien to the other open passage. There was nothing but a stone wall.

"_Uh Terrell, there's no one else here."_

"_There's just an empty wall."_ Damien said over the walkie.

"_Ok, so where are Monroe and Monica?"_

"_That's the thing. They're not here, _Cara said before stopping, _the wall."_

"_What about it?" _Damien asked.

"_It could be a side route if we push it."_

"_Smart thinking, Cara." _Terrell said.

They both got on one side of the wall and pushed with all their strength. It wouldn't budge whatsoever; Damien called out their names to see if either of them would hear him. On Terrell's end, the obsidian piece lost its' glow and turned into sand. He got out his knife at the ready. After three or four tries, the wall was still unable to move. The beast's snarls showed signs that he was pissed and ready to tear apart whatever was in its' way.

Terrell jumped on him as he stuck the knife inside the beast's throat. He was constantly driving it in until it punched him across the garden and into the water. Cara and Damien ran to him to give him cover fire when the beast had a red aura around him. It froze his movements and its' stomach had a churning look like something was about to burst. They got clear and saw its aura serenading all over him; for some reason it didn't attack back. Instead, the beast extended its' arms like he was a life sized cross.

The red energy spread out to the remaining blocked passages and disintegrated the rubble. Soon after, the beast walked over to the fountain and got on all fours before the aura turned him to stone. Damien put the others under the impression they were safe, considering one of the passages had a stairway with dazzling, blue designs, enticing them to move in that direction. But before they moved on, Cara showed Terrell the stone wall that might've taken Monroe and Monica. Damien called out their names again but at this point it was useless. They went for a fifth try when everyone put all their strength together; no avail.

Terrell then suggested they had to keep moving, stay focused on why they came to Norway in the first place. Cara took issue to that and asked why they were just going to leave Monroe alone in whatever pulled him to the other side, not once acknowledged Monica's well-being.

"I'm sure Monica will protect him if he comes to any danger. He's not really a fighter." Terrell said.

"He's still a decent guy, T." Cara said.

"With that many restraining orders he's a danger to himself if you ask me. Look, I brought us into this and Terrell's right. We need to find this Intel Travers sent us for."

"Travers is dead, and did you see the red aura around that creature? It was the same outcome that happened at the base."

"Travers never mentioned a failsafe to anyone. Maybe it's connected, maybe it's not." Terrell replied.

"We should at least get a good look at this creature so we know what we're up against." Cara suggested.

All three went over to the recently turned beast and got a good look at his facial features. From Terrell's point of view, in the right light the creature was called a "Kranner-Wolf: Head of a wolf, body of a muscular male with breathtaking bone structure." From what he remembered in his research, two Kranner-Wolves were kept as bodyguards to frighten trespassers. The Architects of the Norse time were paranoid about dead spirits from Ragnarok coming back to haunt them. Spirits have been known in their experience to cause more than mental break downs; they sometimes possess people to do unquestionable things.

It took the Norse Architects ten years, no sleep or food, to perfect the absolute mausoleum of fallen gods and heroes of Norse Mythology. They gave their lives in the final testament in Ragnarok. Damien was curious if whether or not Archer Kurinthian and his Architects encountered a creature like this. Terrell thought it would be impossible because Kranner-Wolves have a century lifespan. Once their bodies become old and brittle, their souls ascend to Valhalla. After a hundred years the old Architects passed, and their sons and daughters took over in keeping the temple safe generation after generation up until the 20th century.

His internet research ended on that detail, no further evidence about any descendants of today guarding the temple aside from Archer bringing its' structure to modern society. Terrell assured Cara that the temple was huge in terms of its scale; Monroe and Monica were going to get lost but killed was far from their fates. As they moved up the stairway, Cara only wished for Monroe to be okay. Normally, her nature wouldn't wish death on anyone, no matter how heartless an individual can be. So, she didn't wish it in her mind.

In deep mystery, it became a dark time for Monroe and Monica, mostly because all they saw was a narrow walkway with another trinket at the end. Darkness surrounded them, but she didn't care. She was thrown into the hole more times after some cake carving on inmates at her prison. In fact, she felt relieved she got separated from the others. Monroe wanted to know why she was so enthusiastic about finding the Intel. She dismissed it by sharing a personal experience out of the blue.

"So I was sharing this cell with one other inmate. Huge woman, no fatter than a pregnant horse, and one night she whispers in my ear to get my bony ass in bed with her. It wasn't for rough lovin mind ya; she complained her top bunk was so dense and uncomfortable that she thought sleeping on top of me would make it better. I hated that bitch more than anyone else in that prison. Candace her name was."

"Luv, why you tellin me this?" Monroe said as he was looking around all directions.

"When you grow up in the south, you were raised to be tough, no matter what gender you were. For us cracked belles, we don't get a say in what kind of life we want to live. It's as simple as apple pie: you either fend for yourself or the world will take you down. As for 300 pound Candy, let's say when she was 100 pounds lighter after I played some "operation" on her stomach."

"Another disturbing tale by Ms. Don't Drop the soap. How is that related to the situation we're in now?"

They came upon a pedestal with yet another creature symbol on it. On the far end of the walkway, it contained a jar full of rotted meat from the smell Monroe withered as he was walking cautiously behind her. The creature had the body of a dung beetle and the wings of a dragonfly. Monica said she hasn't seen a dung beetle since she went to visit her cousin in Bon Temps. She then went history teacher after Monroe said he wouldn't consider beetles to be a delicacy.

In her background, living in southern Kentucky she was taught not to waste. In Bon Temps, the power went out at her cousin's house one cold winter, and all the food in the kitchen was frozen solid. Both of them found a bunch of dung beetles in the basement, washed them with water from their well, and gutted each one as they were tossed in a pot to make stew. As she went on about how her stomach could take anything disgusting going inside, Monroe heard wings flapping above them. When he looked up the very warmth of his blood turned still and cold. The creature on the jar was an exact replica of what was flying around. He tried getting her attention by pulling on her left shirt sleeve repeatedly. She got annoyed and suddenly looked up; both stood still in the presence of a man sized, flying dung beetle. Its' disturbing, harmonic sounds were only the rapid speed the wings were making. Monica came up with a plan.

"You open that jar, take out a piece of meat and toss it his way." She said.

"You mad, why me?" He asked.

"I know how to use a gun. Now go I got your back." She said taking out her gun.

"Bullshit. I got a Python." He said showing her his gun. "It's a lot stronger than your gun."

The dung beetle landed on the walkway and confronted Monica as both entered into a staring contest. Her gun was fixed on its head with the beetle's five, lily green eyes fixed on her. Monroe opened the jar and the foulest stench imaginable came out. The pregnant looking beetle became rattled with excitement from the rotting meat; Monica told him again to toss the meat his way. The meat itself was full of maggots and got him on edge from puking. He took the jar and tossed it at the ground instead.

Suddenly, the beetle made a screeching call out in the open, and pretty soon hundreds of big insects opened their eyes and flew down to the spoiled snacks. Both stood and witnessed as they devoured like there was no tomorrow. Monica kept looking below and around her to find some way to escape; for the time being they were safe and whole. Gun fire was heard above and beetles were descending like raindrops, save for the ones that were already on the ground. They didn't know what was going on or who was shooting. They did one last check on their ammo.

"For now, we'll do it your way. How many bullets you got?" Monica asked dodging beetles flying all over the place.

"Still six, he said checking his gun, haven't fired once."

"We're going to have to push through them to get back to the wall. I got a grenade that should make a nice hole to crawl under. You ready?"

"Let's do this, luv." Monroe replied.

She screamed "now!" and both ran towards the swarm of meat eating beetles. One beetle looked right at them and roared in a raspy way which stopped both of them for a fast second, but Monroe stepped up and fire two shots at its face. This caused the other beetles to fly up and both hauled ass through the slobbering patch on the walkway. Suddenly, she was grabbed by feelers and hoisted up. Monroe couldn't get a clear shot, then another beetle grabbed him too. The armor on the beetles' arms was too tough for any knife to penetrate through. Both got twirled around under their hind legs and wrapped in cocoons. Every time they moved to break free, the cocoon took on a life of its own and constricted their movements.

In Monroe's mind it was the end for him. He felt like his body was on fire and the pungent smell wrapped around his nostrils didn't help at all. As they were being pulled up to the top, another fire fight took place though it sounded muffled. Monica couldn't get a clear picture on who was doing the shooting. Beetles left and right were dropping and there was only one person present against them. A grenade was thrown at Monica's captor and it caused the cocoon to remain intact when it hit the ground. Unfortunately, Monroe's beetle wasn't gullible to gunfire.

It knocked the mysterious person on his knees and just when it was going to finish him off, a flash of white light engulfed the beetle. It released its' cocoon in front of the guy; he didn't seem to fare well on ammo from what little she was able to see. Footsteps made an acoustic sound making an appearance to where the beetle was. The remaining insects that were still alive calmly flew down to their nest where the walkway used to be. Monica tried her hardest to listen in on a voice of a woman. Her very tone had conviction.

"_Godt godt, helt maskeraden som du har gitt på vårt hjem."_

("Well, well, quite the masquerade you have bestowed in this temple.")

"_Sorry lady." _The man replied. _My Norwegian's off."_

Monica heard a muffled punch to the gut and the man got tossed to the center where the light was at its' brightest. He looked to be military, or an officer. The lady walked to him and spoke in a language even an army grunt would comprehend.

"_Does this sound better?" _She asked.

"_I know who you are…your highness." _He said with a painful grunt. _"You're the White Queen."_

The mystery behind the temple led three other trespassers running up the stairway from the once blocked passage in the garden. It felt like hours since they started moving; stairways turned into condensed mazes. It felt like they made it all the way to the top of temple. Damien almost lost footing on one of the steps but Cara helped him up and kept encouraging him to keep going. Terrell took point ahead of them and nearly got a heart attack from the look of light blue mist with two cave paths. For a second he thought it was another creature like the wolf. Once the others caught up, he stopped them and treaded softly up the last few steps. All three checked their corners before Damien took a breather.

"I've never seen so many twisted steps in my life." He said taking a knee.

"If you're not careful, this temple can turn you from a proper direction. I think we're okay." Terrell assured them.

"Here's hoping the others are having better luck than us." Cara said catching her breath. "Man, she said looking at the misty passage, a place like this would startle anyone."

"We're still far from finding the Elixir." Terrell said.

"Didn't you say the Elixir was underground?" Damien asked taking out his handgun. "I didn't find any trap door or ancient mumbo jumbo telling us where it was."

"There are a lot of things we don't understand about this temple. We need to stay alert." Terrell said.

Cara asked Terrell if he recalled anything from his research about what lurked within the temple itself. So far, they knew they were not the only ones exploring; the Kurinthian Queens wherever they were at the time couldn't be too far away. One thing was for sure; the Architects of the Norse Myth weren't playing around in keeping intruders out of their shrine for future generations. Damien wouldn't be surprised if there was another Kranner-Wolf hiding in the temple. They took out one. The misty like passage they were looking at was a mystery to Terrell, but there was no other place to go but onward.

Damien went first this time, aiming his gun flashlight with no clear way to see. It was all dark, as other areas previously visited, not to mention he heard calm, wind blowing sounds which turned into howling and ghost like as the wind turned to gust. Terrell asked him to take Cara as he was going to investigate the other side. When both entered in, six or seven steps on Damien's side the open passage closed up, leaving both feeling the cold wind flowing through them. The ground was stable enough though; no traps or abnormal creatures jumping out at them yet.

They followed the direction of the wind until they came across a cavern type area. It looked ancient, as if Archer Kurinthian didn't delve too far in refurbishing the temple. Not only that; between them and the other side was a wide, rectangular chasm. Cara went over to see if anything was down below, and suddenly a bug that looked to be a spider with rust covering its web jumped out. She was knocked back and the spider jumped on her stomach; she tossed it behind her and Damien stepped on it. The entire cave then lit up and gave a nasty, dark greenish brown tone.

What lied ahead was a locked door, but between them was a different story. In the chasm they saw hundreds of spiders scaling up the walls. Not only were dangerous in numbers, but Cara took a quick look at the one that was stomped. Blood spatters were orange colored, and melting through the cracks; the spider's face had sharp teeth too. He pointed out there was a book of sorts sticking out of the chasm. It still had spiders surrounding it, and judging their situation they had limited time to get to the other side before the cavern got overcrowded.

She wanted to try singing again to calm the_ syreedderkopper_ down; it was Norse translation for "acid spiders". Damien took one of his grenades and tossed it into the chasm. It scattered the spiders around, giving a clear view of the book. The impact of the blast actually closed off one of many small holes they were crawling out of. An old ladder lied barren on one corner of the chasm; he climbed down and grabbed the book. Suddenly, a spider jumped from behind it and left a deep scratch on his left palm. He grabbed the book anyway with his right hand and started climbing back up.

The spiders caught wind one of their main courses were escaping. Those still scurrying in the chasm gathered where he was and kept stalling him from getting back on top. Both his hands were full, and Cara wasn't faring so well either. She stomped on countless spiders and stabbed others with her knife. Her singing went from a weak tone to sounding like she was in a church choir. It came out of the blue, but this time she was aware of another presence guiding her voice to calm the crawlers down. It felt the same as when she sang to open the temple doors. Pretty soon they stopped hissing and Damien nearly lost his grip on the ladder. Cara was in control now. He prayed for her chanting to work again.

"_Today…we rise through _

_the cycle of life. This day_

_will mark a time of anew. This_

_temple is built to last, and_

_cast out who oppose_

_By this we made our own defense_

_Through the soldering hot_

_And blistering cold…_

_TEMPEL TEN-NER!"_

_(Temple IG-NITE!)_

From there on, the cavern shook and caused the spiders to feel uneasy. The range she was producing provided an overwhelming sense of solace in the darkest depths of the temple. Her voice echoed through the corridors, through the garden, to where the White Queen was standing and Monica held captive, all the way to the mysterious path of the Valhallan Elixir. Suddenly, sounds of instruments like drums and a second, sultry voice came into play. Damien climbed the rest of the way and saw Cara all around a glow of light gold; both eyes encased in white. His lungs ceased to give breath for a second; he had never seen something so out of this world in his life.

He placed the book in front of her as he sat down and kept his knife ready. Three minutes later the chanting subsided, and all the spiders crept back into their holes. Cara's glow was still present; the book then levitated in front of her and it opened up to a chapter about the aftermath of Ragnarok. She spoke through another; Damien couldn't figure out the second voice, but it spoke of the Cavern they were in and what relevance it had to Ragnarok. The Cavern was originally one of thirty-two underground passages out of various cities and kingdoms. News of the final testament of the Gods spread, and citizens who were either unfit for battle or had mental defectives retreated to these caverns and made their way to Mount Traenors.

Those who built the caverns believed the mountain was on a side of the world where the ocean wouldn't engulf them. They would still be underwater but able to swim to a surface in the mountain. She then went on speaking about the obsidian treasure Cara found in the gardens. The original pretext of the treasure was called _slange kaller_: snake calls to lure the Midgard Serpent, Jormungandr away from neutral territories. War was underway, and the dark side of Norse Mythos unleashed Jormungandr to destroy opposing forces, both god-like and mortal. The _slange kallers_ were crafted by priests out of obsidian compounds and snake venom.

They could be molded into any shape, oval being the main one to create the perfect sound for the serpent to come. Jormangandr was large, relentless in pursuit, but not very smart when it attacked Loki, the great Fenris Wolf, and others in the main realm. Damien asked her if there was a way to get to the door onto the other side; she explained about creating a platform over the chasm to cross. Then suddenly the walls on both sides had symbols on them. More scriptures from his point of view, and through Cara she said within the Cavern lied a pendant; a piece of jewelry which created enlightenment for the darkest of minds.

However, the technique in finding a priceless resource wasn't easy because every sixty seconds the pendant would change shape and origin as soon as it was found; its changes are rapid. It was all going to have to do with timing; so the objective for them was this: they were to place their hands over each square piece on their side of the wall, open them up to either nothingness or another trap. The name of the pendant was unknown; she concluded by saying time was limited and they had to move quickly. When Cara got her voice back, the book fell in front of her and almost collapsed backwards. Damien helped her up but he wasn't feeling too good either with the subtle, acidic scratch on his hand.

"You okay, Cara?" Damien asked grunting quietly.

"Yeah." She said trying to stand on her own. "I know what she wants us to do. Let's find that pendant."

"Who was that? The chanting, luring away the spiders, telling us how to get out of here. What's going on with you?"

"I don't know." She replied nodding her head and composing herself. "I'm sure I'll figure it out."

She went to her side of the cavern leaving tension between them. He had a concerned look as to whether or not she was fully self-aware about a ghost inside her. The scratch he got constricted his left palm; he was still able to move his fingers just barely. Both were on a strict timetable finding the pendant. They went to their separate walls and began looking in each unique corner to find it. Like any story, especially coming from a reliable source, it has progression. Neither Damien or Sherry could comprehend the reasons behind him remembering every single detail as if he was there a second time, but she didn't dwell on it and stopped him mid-way.

"_You didn't tell her about the spider scratch?" _Sh_e_rry asked on the audio recorder.

"_She didn't need to know. I only needed one good hand to find the pendant. Besides, ever since we entered the temple she was…distant. She wanted to be a part of the group, hell I think she forced herself at times to be with us. But at that time we were all separated with challenges to face. When we met back however..." _Damien said before pausing.

"_It's okay. I don't want you to skip over any details. Before I let you go on, I can't shake this feeling that some of the things you've been telling me sound a little far-fetched. For starters, where were the security checkpoints when you guys were in that gunship, finding a place to land?"_

"_There were none Terrell and I could see. My guess is any security that had the balls to stay behind when the others were either killed or found another job, got taken in by the queens for viral testing."_

"_I thought you said the queens only took in the deceased from cemeteries around Norway."_

"_They did." _Damien assured her. _"The human test subjects were kept in a prison camp that worked like an assembly line on another part of the temple. You have to understand, this place was huge. You could get lost for days if you don't retrace your steps; hence the reason why we were stuck there for an entire week. If it wasn't for Carlos..."_

"_So Carlos DID help you guys? Okay, now we're getting somewhere." _She replied. _"How did your group meet up with him?"_

"_That came later; as did the Wesker connection you have highlighted on your article about the mission. Sit tight, Agent Birkin; we still got a long ways to go."_

"_I hope my hunch is right." _She replied before allowing him to continue.

Terrell explored his passage with uncertainty in his heart. As it closed up behind him he had this persistent feeling he was being followed. He turned around and kept walking. The ground was stable enough, but it was still too dark to see what path he was on. Suddenly, a glass breaking was heard out of nowhere, and it echoed; screams of pain began to joggle his memory. It was a kick to the head in a way; whatever he was thinking he was trying to block it out.

Then his shoulder felt like someone was tapping him. He turned around and saw his brother badly wounded. He told Terrell their village was up in flames; the same heartless individuals who tried to take the village women and pillage everyone else. Only his brother, mother, and a few other male and female defenders remained. He was then brought back to his homeland in Jamaica. He couldn't believe it at first. His eyes were re-introduced to the hardened life he made for himself. For the time being, he kept his guard up and played along. Memories recalling the last time he was home were a mere blur to him. His mother explained why she was there.

She spoke as a narrator depicting what happened after the fact. Terrell did know she and his siblings were still alive, but moving from place to place, trying to find a way to the states and start a new life. Back when he was sixteen, mercenary factions in southern Jamaica were in dire need of female combatants and breeders. A massive epidemic spread around Kingston; women and children were dying without relief. Medicine was raided in unaffected areas and those who concealed their medical supplies were shot and killed. Terrell and his three brothers, Daryl, Malachai, and Kinrin, were the strength of the family when their father succumbed to the terror of Tylenol hungry mercenaries.

Out of all seventy-four women in his village, only a fair few along with his mother were the most resilient. For three months straight, it was like all the four brothers did was defend their home. They couldn't go back to school, interact with other people. It was day in and day out they have prayed for anyone of higher authority to take out the mercenaries causing harm. Towards the end, it became what Terrell saw on his younger brother, Kinrin; battle scars. The mercs were tired of toying around in the village; so one night they used fire to solve their problems.

His second oldest brother, Daryl, had a connection in another village about securing a get-away boat in case things got too heavy. He appeared in Terrell's presence next to Kinrin. He thought up a plan to get transportation from one of the mercs since they drove in old, beat up jeeps. Daryl stayed in the household to defend their mother while the other three dealt with the problem outside. Terrell and Kinrin fought off a handful of mercs with nothing but steel baseball bats and dropped weapons like AR-15s and SMGs. Kinrin suddenly found one of the jeeps left unattended; he decided to make a run for it.

Terrell followed behind him with gunfire whizzing back and forth, cries of poor souls that went in unison with the bullets. That's when his first kill came into play, his first _real_ kill. A sneaky mercenary was very machete friendly when he sent it through the left side of Kinrin's neck. Terrell fell backwards on the blood ridden ground but rose up immediately to encounter the merc who killed his youngest. He dodged a few machete swings and landed a right punch to the merc's face, kicked the machete out of his hand, and with little time to react he chopped off his head.

He didn't have time to grasp the concept of what he just did; Malachai didn't fare well either. He took a shotgun shell to the chest, leaving a gaping hole the size of a grapefruit. There was no time to grieve; Terrell got in the jeep with Kinrin on the passenger side, and ran over an overweight merc who killed his other brother. With tears pouring down his face, he called out to Daryl and his mother to get in the jeep and drove out of the village. The memory went black; back in Terrell's dark place where his mother's narration refreshed his mind, she concluded on how he failed to save all his brothers.

Malachai and Kinrin's spirits were placeholders to demonstrate how they died, trying to throw Terrell's psyche off. He thought why such a dark time in his life would be shown as if he was re-experiencing it. However, that day wasn't the time she blamed him for. Terrell made the harsh choice of not going along with them on the boat ride out of the village.

"_I'm not going!" _Terrell said in a flashback shown to his present self. _"There are still survivors back there and they need someone to turn the tide of this attack!"_

"_Get in the boat, Terrell!" _Daryl demanded. _"It's too late for them, brother."_

"_It's a losing battle for them, I know. If I can at least fend off those demons I could..." _

"_Out of the question!" _Daryl interrupted.

"_Listen to your blood. I've already lost two sons; I'm not losing you too!" _The mother begged

"_Mother, _he said putting both hands on her shoulders, _they've harassed us for too long. Someone's got to answer for that. I wish I can leave this behind, but this is our home. Father lost his life to those savages. It's time for retribution. Daryl, _he looked to him, _give Mala and Kinrin a proper burial for me."_

"_Last chance, brother. You take one more step from this harbor,_ he said before pausing, _I won't come back for you."_

His mother and older brother didn't realize it at the time, but making that decision to exact revenge on those mercenaries was the hardest decision Terrell ever made. He managed to drive them back with a machine gun turret placed on one of the other jeeps. Up until the attack, the total population in his village was 700 inhabitants; only a stretch of 310 remained when he went back to help. He had never seen so many dead bodies in his life; let alone actually killing a man with his own machete and seeing blood spurt out the neck like a geyser. Those memories flooding back left him numb in the legs, leaving the spirits of his family to have him ponder on his grave mistake.

As they faded in the wind of whatever Terrell was walking in, he picked up his twelve-gauge and moved forward with an uneasy feeling in his stomach. Give or take eight minutes later, his body felt like it was being pulled out the "now" and thrown back into that village with an entirely new perspective. The scenery looked gritty, rendered down to a horror movie of sorts. It was cold; huts were severely damaged and abandoned, and dead body smells simulated its' own oxygen bubble around the village. He didn't know what to think.

He couldn't get out nor did he have the strength to. There were sounds of someone eating from one of the huts; he got his shotgun ready to investigate. It came from none other than his family's hut. Suddenly, he walked in upon dead bodies that looked to have deep bite marks with bits of flesh taken out. It was his brother Kinrin; he then heard more chomping sounds behind him. It was a man, with a stink just as foul as the air outside.

As he got closer, the man turned his head in a slow, menacing way to his right; cold eyes and blood smeared around his mouth with a low growl as animalistic as a hungry wolf. The cannibal-like stranger stood up and turned around to face him. Disbelief would be an understatement; it was a zombie version of Terrell himself. He limped like the undead; Terrell had his gun pointed and ready to pull the trigger. A buckshot exploded his head with blood flying everywhere. At that moment, he had fear and adrenaline built up in his heart so he ran out of the hut, and nearly fell flat on his face when the entire village had an undead vibe to them. He tried talking them down.

"_You have been wronged! I can save you!"_ He implored. _"Let me save you!"_

He ran away from his hut and out on to the center of the village, screaming that there was going to be a solution in driving back the spineless mercenaries away from their home. He didn't know what he was saying but his mind allowed him to continue ranting about saving his village and making a difference. It wasn't until one of the village folk bit his neck while another bit into his arm. Before he knew it, every undead wanted a piece of him. He was screaming throughout the whole thing, until he woke up in an unlikely place with a sense of relief he didn't die. He was surrounded by books, in a mausoleum sized place built as a library.

As he got up, he checked to see if both his neck and arm were still put together, but it was one experience he didn't want to go through again. He was ashamed in not escaping with his family when he had the chance that day. His father was murdered by the same mercenaries who wanted to take his wife. His heart was filled with too much anger and pride that it introduced him into a world he has sworn to never enter. Half a year after the attack, Terrell was still trying to get his village neighbors back on their feet when yet another faction came to visit him. This time, they were freedom fighters from Barbados; they too had their homes attacked.

He joined up with them with the promise of his village returning to normal, and safe passage to the states on a ferry. It turned out he had gotten more than what he anticipated for. Half a year turned to two, two turned to four, stomping out the spineless bastards. At one point, he got a little trigger happy on a merc with a family along the coastlines of Cuba. Not once he has seen or sent a postcard to his mother and older brother the entire time. However, he wanted to dwell on the past later. He woke up to a wonder of books and quite possibly clues as to where to find the Valhallan Elixir.

Back in the Caverns, Damien and Cara were still looking for the pendant. No luck was made on either side, and Damien's hand was getting tighter and tighter, making it painfully useless.

"You find it yet?!" Cara shouted.

"No, are you sure it's in _this_ cavern?" He asked as he kept touching the highlighted stone wall? "There might be others we haven't looked."

"It's in here. We just got to keep looking!"

"Hope we find it soon." He said looking at his right palm.

Terrell had his shotgun firmly in hand as he slowly went up the first flight of stairs, checking his corners for any undead surprises. Seeing his locked up mistakes made him more aware than he originally was. However unlike the others he has been looking for a way to return to his family after all these years abandoning them. That was one of the promises Samuel Travers made him before he accepted the offer to go to Venezuela. He already had a blotched record of 182 kills of criminal factions along the Caribbean and Jamaican seaboard, an accomplice of stolen food and medical resources to poor villages. He even plotted in taking out a Cuban dictator. In spite of all his actions in his career as a freedom fighter, he was a tainted soul looking to a grey world from behind bars.

He was the first Travers approached about the Norway situation. They had researched together on Norse Mythology and the conspiracy behind the mysterious murders of citizens within the area of the temple. Over time, he had gotten more attuned to learning about other parts of history besides his own, and even thought about changing professions to get his life back in order. However his dark place opened his mind back to his past life; he didn't know how he felt. When he first started exploring the library, his feelings and movements felt like his body was in motion, but his mental self was sitting in a corner somewhere, regretting his choices. Nevertheless, the first floor of books had old encyclopedias written about Norwegian culture; food like salmon, desserts like Kransakake, evolution of plants.

After a while he didn't find anything about the temple's elixir or any short cut to finding it. When he was halfway to the second floor, a strong gust of wind flew past him out of nowhere. He aimed his shotgun but no one was there. He started to get a feel in what type of library it was; a labyrinth with a winding staircase. For some reason the stairs weren't well proportioned. The lower three floors had banisters to hold on to as opposed to the upper floors. There was one staircase that extended out in mid-air. The library as a whole had shelves of old books rectangular shaped; it looked that way for all five floors. Terrell was already on the fourth level witnessing this; he then found half a piece of a tablet with half a face on it. The tablet was encased in glass to give off a shine. His walky talkie went off and it nearly gave him a heart attack in such a quiet place.

"_T, can you hear me?" _Cara asked with static in between the words. _"Are you alright? Come in, T."_

"Cara." He said with relief. "It's good to hear from you. Where are you and Damien?"

"_That misty passage led us to a Cavern. Damien and I found a pendant to raise a platform to reach a door. Where are you?"_

"A library; it could offer us a clue in finding this elixir. I just got here so I'm going to keep looking."

"_Ok, we can't get back to the garden because those misty passages cut us off. We'll just have to run into each other by luck. I can see why this temple's been abandoned for so long."_

"We're safe for now. Maybe Monica and Monroe are having better luck."

Damien screamed in pain in the background. Cara ended the radio conversation telling Terrell to stay safe. He was on the ground leaning on his left side with his whole right arm swollen from the spider scratch. She didn't waste time in asking how it happened so she got out the red and green herbs she collected from the garden. She broke apart the leaves from it and crumpled them up in her hands.

He went from screaming to labored breathing after a minute; not a gentle bone was held in her body at this moment. The pain she expressed from what the herbs were going to do was excruciating, but its' effects were going to loosen the joints, hopefully she said. She held his arm where she saw the infected palm perfectly. Damien kept looking around for something to bite on so nothing abnormal would hear him. Being more resourceful, she offered a thick, tree stick she got from the gunship crash. As he bit down making denture indentations, the crushed herbs entered the scratch, causing him immense discomfort.

By the time the worst was over, an even greater difficulty arose. The energy the pendant gave off around the Cavern began to fade; Cara got him on his feet as they ran to the door. Her inner voice told her to throw the pendant at the door, making it shatter like glass. They got through and found themselves looking at another empty chasm, only this time platforming was involved. Seven thin, oval shaped platforms suited for one person to stand on moved around the chasm in zigzag motions while others moved up and down.

On the other side contained two separate statues; one looked to be a Norse god while the other looked to be a man-sized beast made out of ice. Cara made the distinction that the beast was a frost giant: one of the fiercest races of Jotunheim, and one of many rivals of Asgardian rulers. This room in particular had a realistic tone in terms of how cold it was, and the feeling for Damien that someone was looking over his shoulder. Good thing he wasn't claustrophobic he thought, but the cold didn't help the healing process with his hand. Then again, he thought back in playing a certain horror game back in Denver where the characters were in more dire straits.

It could've been a lot worse for him, and sitting around in pain wasn't going to benefit either him or Cara. As the oval platforms moved in different directions, a projection played of a war pitted against the Norse gods and the frost giants. Sounds of the beasts dying by the sword gave way to an orb hovering over the chasm. It flew towards Cara and she touched it to see what was going to happen. The orb swiftly flew back to the frost statue on the other side, making its feet light up.

"Look, she said pointing to the orb, we got to touch enough blue orbs to light up the statue."

"Do you know what'll happen afterwards?" Damien asked with suspicion.

"No idea, she replied, can you move?"

"I'll turn into a frickin icicle if I don't right? When this is over, and _if_ we get some sort of breathing time, you and I are going to talk."

She didn't utter another word after that. Both focused on their first platform to jump on and began the next puzzle. Damien stood on a platform moving up and down, while Cara stood on one that moved diagonally. It was a bit difficult at first; the feel of ice creeping up on the platforms meant they were running out of time. He thought the Queens were really intent on not letting any intruder getting to either them or the elixir alive.

He wondered how Archer Kurinthian got through these obstacles. Then again, how did he and his team of architects survive any of the endeavors leading up to this puzzle? According to Terrell's knowledge on the Kurinthian Queens, they didn't know how to build from an architectural standpoint, but since there was no new evidence of their intentions or the murders it was all speculation. Cara managed to touch three orbs moving at the same time and was sent to the frost statue.

Damien was trying his hardest not to fall off his platform; sounds of battle playing in the background felt like they were in the center of it all. It sounded authentic and real, but horrifying at the same time. The frost statue had only his waist lit up with the Norse God's feet covered. The platforms they reached getting to the other side were getting slippery. Damien touched the last orb before falling off and grabbing the ledge with one hand. Cara got lucky when she tripped off her platform and landed on her back next to the frost statue. When all the orbs were collected the statue started to crack. Light crept out and just before it exploded both platform jumpers made it as the sounds of the battle subsided.

"I think that did it." Cara told him.

"We work well together." He replied. "Let's hope we don't come back to this place again."

The Norse God lit up in glistening silver as it moved to the middle, blocking the passage out of the recent obstacle. It then spoke a cryptic language; acoustically with a commanding presence in the statue's words. Cara listened to the words carefully without even opening her translation book. Damien got out the book he found at the Cavern, skimming through pages as he found an old sketch of the Norse goddess herself. Her name was Skadi: Goddess of Winter. Cara's body lit up in a gold aura once again and was translating word for word of what Skadi was saying.

She said beyond the room lied two great evils. One spawned from the blood of the Underworld, while the other was created from unknown circumstances, through the eyes of an evil heretic. There was that emphasis on the eyes again Damien said to himself; either Skadi had no clue about the other evil or the mystery of who she was could be more dangerous. She continued talking about the battle that was raging all around them. The coldest glaciers amongst the territories of Yggdrasil laid the retribution of the three queens versus the Frost Giants.

This battle took place fifty years after the Great War of Odin and his army of Aesir. Yggdrasil was the center of all the nine realms and if even one was compromised, it would mean blood shed for all gods and their children. The names of the two other queens were Venezia and Maeori, or the White and Red Queens who were replicated from the Umbrella Corporation back in the states. In the next room had stairs heading downward, and from there into the Queens' chambers. Cara couldn't ask her any questions; technically Skadi's voice came to life to offer a warning to those who summoned her wisdom. Her statue bid them good luck, and moved back into its' original place to allow them passage to the stairs. Cara returned to normal and they pressed on.

Exploring with half of the glass tablet in hand, Terrell back tracked down to the lower levels of the library to look thoroughly for the other half. He was on the second floor, down where it had books on ancient Norse weapons like Viking axes and amulets depicting symbols of the nine realms. He came upon something peculiar that looked like half the floor was demolished; bullets and burnt books suggested someone was there recently, and judging by the bloody footprints following up to the third floor was getting more curious by the second. Terrell was so far out of it before that he didn't notice these details. The footprints ended up at a shelf containing ten volumes about the Blood Queen of Helheim.

Before he picked up the first volume another gust of wind was heard from the middle of the library; the wind was becoming more and more frequent. Suddenly, one of the book shelves crashed on the floor below him, causing him to hold on to one of the volumes and keep his guard up. He kept his hand gun close to his chest and looked over the middle of the library; nothing was seen but the fifth floor stairway and brown air particles turning red.

"Why does it smell like blood in here?" He asked himself looking at the air particles.

A figure unknown to Terrell jumped from the shadows of the third floor, and grabbed hold of his neck. He dropped the book down below and was soon thrown violently towards the wall behind him. A womanly figure in a smooth flowing, red gown walked in a sensual motion. Every fiber of his being before this was to pull the trigger, but with the color red glowing from an already radiant creature, he'd put aside his gun. Instead, he sat there and acknowledged her great strength and how much of an honor it was to meet her in the flesh. Subtle red veins were slowly throbbing on her face with cherry red eyes to demonstrate the allure of her stare. She got down on one knee and looked Terrell straight in the eye.

"Your highness." He addressed her. "I-I apologize for..." He continued before her index finger was placed on his lips.

"_Shhh_, she said, _hvilket et herlig eksemplar. Sterk, riddled med frykt, som blir flaskelegge i tett tennet rør._ _Du skal være min underholdning i denne støvete graven._

(Shh. What a delightful specimen. Strong, riddled with fear, all bottled in a tight lit tube. You shall be my entertainment in this dusty grave.)

Her index finger descended from his lips, down to his stocky chest. Terrell sat there with some whiplash from the wall impact, but to him he wasn't dead yet. He tried doing something he wasn't all good at before; charm. The Red Queen looked beautiful to him, still entranced by her gaze as she felt him out. The half tablet in his left hand felt like it was going to be the next thing she was going to feel. Her stomach vibrated all of a sudden, and gave off a pain only she can endure.

She swiftly turned away from him, crawling like a backwards spider back onto a rail that squared around the third floor. She stood there caressing her stomach tightly; the half tablet he held glow the same color that matched her persona. She jumped up to the fifth floor and scurried around there. Terrell got up and followed her. As he made his way to the diagonal staircase without railings, he noticed the ceiling of the library changed. It morphed from engraved designs to a sky-line window where the rain was seen coming down hard.

He could still hear the Queen screaming in pain; the half tablet was its source. He assumed the other half was inside her. At one point, he figured whether or not to toss the tablet so he could communicate with her, or better yet in his mind, use it so she wouldn't kill him. Decisions, decisions; he balanced himself on the diagonal stairway, looking up at the ceiling with the rain getting worse. It must've been hours to him since entering the temple. When he got to the other side, he turned on his gun light as he treaded softly around the fifth floor. Suddenly, he had a quick urge to look across and saw red eyes for two seconds before it hid.

"I know what it's like living with the pain you've dealt with for years. Or is it centuries for you? You didn't kill me back there; it's this tablet isn't it?" Terrell asked holding out his half tablet. "I have no means to understand how you came back to life, but I know what happened to you. A full century passed since the Great War of Odin's time, and half that century after was the Retribution of the Great Queens: You, Skadi, and Venezia. Your realms were threatened by the Bi-frost; the three queens banded together to drive them back into Niffelheim. You suffered most at the hands of their cold imprisonment; they captured you to bring devastation into Asgard. After all, you were the strongest of the three, and the most violent. Skadi and Venezia did not rescue you did they? Odin's son Thor..."

His voice was stayed when his body was pulled, feeling like strings were going to pop out of him like a puppet. He was lifted off the ground, nearly hit his head on one of the bookcases and brought out in the center of the library. The Red Queen then emerged from the darkness of the fifth floor and levitated towards him with an angry look on her face. Terrell was scared; he tried his best to keep it together. However, she kept her distance because he held the half tablet in his hands still.

"_Fortsett _(Continue)._" _She said.

"You didn't deserve your fate. The two other queens were like sisters to you. I cannot say I have experienced the kind of battle you had to endure from the Bi-frost's grasp." He said before he heard his bones on the verge of breaking.

"_Jeg taper min tålmodighet." _She said as both her hands extended and gripped slowly.

(I am losing patience.)

Terrell grunted loudly in pain, dropped the tablet all the way to the bottom. He was mentally kicking himself when she flew closer to him on a more intimate face-to-face. When things calmed inside his body he continued his plea.

"Damn it." He said to himself. "Asgard went through a dark time with you bringing forth a monsoon of blood onto its kingdom. Odin's son Thor crafted a rare find that was just as powerful as his hammer, Mjolnir itself. It was called a _fengsellast. _Please your highness, I'm not the enemy here, but if settling this encounter is going to result in one leaving this library, I have no choice but to accept."

A _fengsellast, _or its translation, "prison vice," was a failsafe crafted when Asgard was fallen under attack from the psychotic Queen of Helheim. The tablet rendered her growing madness into a standstill, and placed her in a comatose state. Her body was tasked by Odin to have it sent back to Helheim in hopes of never awakening again. The _fengsellast _not only put her in a deep sleep, but the torture in her soul suffered would be constant for all her days. Years after Ragnarok, when the world turned to endless ocean, the sarcophagus she was placed into rose to the surface and sailed until the time of the new beginning. The Architects of the temple tribute found her.

She was the first treasure during the construction of the temple, soon was labeled more than live goods. Her spiritual aura awakened the dead creatures and monsters buried beneath the ancient ground of Norway. The seven Architects constructed quickly through the blessings of the Norse Gods. Lucky to them, her power mattered little when the sarcophagus kept it locked away from the outside, leaving her mental state with nothing but thoughts of revenge. In a straightforward yet spine chilling tone, the Red Queen spoke in words Terrell recognized.

"You are right. My banishment from the ancient world has left me to my torturous devices. _Bastard barna _is indeed responsible for keeping me as his puppet; this _tablet." _She said holding her stomach. "You see young soul, the Maestro of this place has grown strong with the elixir flowing through his actions. I will need an...ally to help bring him down. Let us see if you have what it takes to stand with me."

"I…don't understand." He said.

Soon after, she screeched in a way that shattered the ceiling down on them. She cast her red aura on him to protect him from the shards; they sliced her skin up a good deal. She enjoyed every second of it; shards left small cuts on her face, chest, and arms. Rain water came rushing down like mini waterfalls. Before he knew it, he was flying along with her out of the library and back outside of the temple.

He couldn't move in the aura, not even scream which was his first instinct when being flung up and flown around. The temple was even more massive than what he found in his research, a _lot_ bigger. Its monuments and passageways spanned for six and a half miles, and it seemed that he was being brought to the other side he was unfamiliar with. Suddenly, both he and the queen descended into a hole and Terrell got a glimpse at who was inside it. There were two humans fighting each other; he didn't recognize either of them. She flew on while laughing maniacally at the feeling of freedom rushing through her veins. Terrell had a bad feeling about this.

Damien and Cara finally had a chance to breathe after conquering yet another puzzle that was more vivid and real than the spider infested obstacle. They found themselves walking on a bridge; braziers were lit up and aligned on both sides, only revealing parts of silver that portrayed as statues. It turned out Damien was paying attention back in Venezuela when both were going over old research notes about certain places in the temple. It was only a guess since the braziers barely revealed a whole lot, but if she was right, they were standing in the Hall of the Gods: portrayed as a museum-like walkthrough with the silver statues of Norse Mythos.

"No one back in the states would believe this. Despite some setbacks I'm actually enjoying myself." Damien told Cara.

"We nearly got killed by spiders and ice and now you're enjoying yourself?" She asked shaking her head in disbelief. "How's that hand of yours?"

"It still hurts but not as much." He replied looking at his right palm. "Those herbs you found were a life saver."

"My mother taught me how to treat ailments with herbs back in Acapulco. This trip was a mistake." She said.

"It's not your fault, Cara. I was the one who wanted to go, just to give my grandmother some space. I hope she's doing okay."

"I hope so too. We all said "yes" to Sam's offer; it's up to us to survive this. Damien, you asked me if I was feeling alright, how I opened the temple doors, kept those spiders away when you were looking for that book. The golden stag has given me permission to tell you about her."

"Whoa wait." Damien stopped her. The Golden what?"

Cara sat Indian style and closed her eyes while Damien wanted to know what was going on. Then her eyes lit golden, and instead of speaking in Norwegian, she spoke through Cara to get her message across. He was dumbfounded and couldn't believe what he was seeing; it felt like a dream in a sense. In fact, all that he'd experienced thus far felt out of this world_._

"_Do you proclaim yourself as Damien Walsh?"_ The stag asked.

"Holy shit, this is happening." He said to himself. "Uh…yes I am. Where's Cara?"

"_Her vessel is pure; she is sleeping now. She has allowed me to guide her through the horrors this temple has to bestow. You are "friend" to her, and for that I shall help you understand my being here."_

"We came to this temple with five people. Do you happen to know where the other three are?"

"_It is my purpose to drift about in the temple and learn of its dark secrets. Your three companions are alive, but are in ill circumstances. One flies with the Blood Queen of the underworld Helheim, another is imprisoned and unconscious along with other tainted souls. As for the other…he will not last long."_

"Who's he; is it Monroe or what?" He asked.

"_One of the Queens has put an aural block on my findings of this one. What I do know is that she wears the white gown, and is currently being chased. Take heed human, she is not as vile as she will appear to be."_

"Cara and I are going to meet her?"

"_She is opposite of the Blood Queen: passionate with ulterior motives. You must pass through this manhole to reach her quickly." _The stag said revealing a black hole like passage._ "Two men of opposite fortunes will bring her world to ruin."_

The golden Stag bid the both of them luck before she allowed Cara back her voice. Damien expressed how overwhelmed he was from seeing something that came out of a fantasy game, coming to life before his eyes. But they didn't have enough time to relish in this discovery. Cara got her sniper rifle ready with Damien following suit. They jumped through the manhole and found themselves on a winding road in the middle of a rainstorm brewing.

Through the rain Cara noticed they were on a walkway leading to another part of the temple; how big was the temple itself she wondered? They pursued into another winding path, only this time it felt like the walls were closing in on them. Both heat and adrenaline running through their veins were the only things keeping them going. If it weren't for that, they'd be knocked out cold at this point. While they were looking for the pendant in the spider filled Cavern, Damien felt out of touch with reality; light headed to the point of passing out and never waking up.

The scratch he got prevented that from happening. In the distance, Cara saw the two men on the move and was chasing someone wearing white. Just before they caught up on their trail, the middle piece of the wall on a far corner was slowly closing shut. Damien and Cara didn't make it in time, but that didn't stop traps from forming when they walked back the other way. On the other end of the hall, the floor opened to a disturbing sight; there was rain water flowing through the cracks and it woke up a large group of man-eating piranhas that were both snappy and jumpy at the same time. Damien backed away with nerves overtaking within his chest and Cara getting the jitters from the way the fish attacked each other.

"There's got to be a way out!" Cara shouted!

"If your stag friend has any ideas, now's the time!" Damien replied.

"Just give me a sec to thi, she said before hatching an idea, oh wait!"

She ran to the broken floor of piranhas and dropped her one grenade into it, leaving half of them scattering and drowning in their own guts. She jumped over them and was relieved her assumption was right; there was a grappling hook that was dropped recently, possibly from one of the two men who were chasing the White Queen. She jumped to other side with Damien and continued further down where the wall closed. They saw an opening above them. She told him they were going to have to climb their way out, and not a moment too soon another piece of the floor went away and revealed another school of piranhas. Some of them were jumping out of their imprisoned habitats and leaping towards their meal of the day.

Cara took the initiative in covering him by picking off the piranhas while he tried to get the hook on the right side of the opening. It looked like a ventilation shaft. He tossed it upward and got frustrated and bothered it didn't reach. He tried again when suddenly the floor a couple of big tiles next to him came apart and had more hungry fish ready to gnaw him to pieces. On the third try, he got it up there and was sturdy enough to climb.

He called out to Cara and she climbed up first reaching the top. Damien couldn't climb a rope to save his life, not even during his time in high school, but with all his might and the pain he still felt from his right palm, he made it half way with Cara giving him a helping hand. Before meeting up with two esteemed chasers of the White Queen, Damien saw a square sheet rock which he used to cover up the opening. From there, it was just them and god knows what lied on the other side.

"We were almost main courses for those piranhas." Damien chuckled nervously. "I'll never look at fish the same way again."

"I hear you. Lucky for me, my stomach doesn't agree with seafood. I hope this White Queen will help us." She said.

"What does the golden stag say about her?"

"She's heavily conflicted, the Queen. She's been trying to close off the path to the elixir for some time. Someone of great evil has been brewing it for years. If she doesn't fulfill her purpose, then…Monica will be right."

"Hey, he interrupted as they moved through the shaft, I don't want to hear that shit. We're getting out alive, all five of us."

"Always best to keep faith strong." Cara nodded in agreement.

While both pursued the White Queen, Terrell found himself in a grueling position. His body was both numb and drenched, and from the Red Queen's words that his current state of affairs was exactly what she wanted, he knew he was done for. Charm never worked for him in the past, not even when he was a freedom fighter for his village. His eyes were closed shut and mentally kept asking himself where he was and if it was worth going through all this trouble for a dead army pilot. The only feeling he got anywhere was his hands; they felt chained and the air around him was thick. He also heard muffled roaring, and when he was able to open his eyes he saw a beast similar to what he encountered in the gardens; the Kranner-Wolf. It was drunk for meat and bone and was hungry for more. This wolf still stood tall like a man, but was chained on all fours to prevent the carnage from happening early.

"Stay calm, Terrell." He said in his mind. You've been through this before; tired and angry, new bloods to be initiated? This wolf looks pissed off for what I have done to his kin. This is the end…no…it cannot be. Maeori could've finished me off. What purpose does she have for me?"

The Red Queen spoke through the shadows of what seemed to be a demolished arena, but it didn't look to be of Norse origin, more Greek from what he could see. As soon as she spoke, the Kranner-Wolf grew restless; he could smell the fear and tension coming from his prey. It was going to be a test of strength, saying conventional weapons like guns and rocket launchers are pitiful compared to the practical arms like axes and shields. The Red Queen's instructions were simple: kill the wolf, and in return gain a taste of the Valhallan Elixir. Terrell opened his eyes wide open when he heard that.

He originally wanted to have nothing to do with tasting it. His body was still numb and joints on his hands and feet were tense. Maybe it wouldn't taste so bad he thought; that was when his shackles had that red aura around them which released him face first onto the dirty sand. The bones in both his arms cracked a bit, making them align back into place. A spear of great elegant design was thrown at his feet; had red ribbons near the hilt to give it style when twirling it. Maeori referred to it as the _Gungnir_: One of Odin's prized weapons during his time, and taken from a trophy room where Norse glory shined brighter than jewels. The anticipation was building up in the wolf; the more he waited to kill Terrell the more ferocious he became.

"_What is a contest without an audience to be present?!"_

The arena's confines extended from bloody, stone walls to bleachers. In all directions, hordes of undead crawled up onto the arena and were kept in check by Maeori's gaze. They growled, stood like zombies, but that didn't level the playing field for either Terrell or the wolf. As far as he was concerned, they were just rotting meat waiting to be brushed aside.

"_I kveld vil være en for den allmektige Kurinthian å bevitne."_

(This evening will be one for the almighty Kurinthian to witness…)

"Kurinthian?" Terrell said in puzzlement.

"_La oss venter ikke mer. DREP seg !"_

(Let us wait no longer. KILL EACH OTHER!)

The wolf was unchained and wasted no time making his charge against Terrell. He rolled away as fast as he could and kept rolling until he had gotten enough distance to mount an attack. He took the spear and got in a defensive pose as the wolf turned around with exposed teeth and foam running through them. When he charged a second time, Terrell quickly struck the wolf in the left arm and he went for a ride. He hung on and used all his all his strength to pull the spear out, and as soon as he did the wolf grabbed him and bashed his body against the sand, kicking him like a used trash can soon after. He went rolling for about sixteen inches away; sand conjoined to his skin and unnecessary joint areas which made moving a little more difficult.

Hot and fearful, with Gungnir in hand he tried for an offensive approach and lunge the spear at his throat. The wolf dashed to the right and Terrell was up shit's creek at that point. The best he did in that instant was he picked up a wad of sand and kept it in his left hand. The wolf forcefully grabbed him and restrained him against the stone bleachers. The undead inhabiting there were attempting to get a piece of the action so to speak. Terrell looked up at them and moved his head back and forth to avoid getting bit.

He took the sand and jammed it into one of the wolf's eyes, leaving Terrell to use his army knife to gut out the rest of it. He stabbed its' oversized paws three times before he was let go. The wolf roared in pain and slicing off undead who were becoming a nuisance to him. Terrell used the allotted time to run through the slippery sand to get the spear, but undead were already dropping from the upper stone bleachers and onto the arena.

"Wake up, man." He said hitting the side of his head. "Your survival means more than your wounds."

He ran through the undead, jammed two foreheads and slit a throat to get to the spear. Once he grabbed it, another horde of undead showed up. The Red Queen was either intent on killing him or testing his resolve for the Elixir. A red aura was then placed on the wolf, calming both his rage and appetite. Terrell knew what this was about; it was what he recalled from before every cage match in his past life.

Though in this scenario, it came a few spear jabs and knock downs too late. Both faced each other and in a humanly fashion, the wolf gave Terrell a nod, like saying "good luck" or "may the best species triumph." Both walked to opposite sides of the arena with the undead having red auras around them and levitated back to the bleachers. They got in defensive poses; Terrell didn't have any other choice but to see this fight through. When the fight commenced by the Red Queen, whenever he could he tried looking at his surroundings for an escape route.

Still on the pursuit, Damien and Cara kept moving through the shaft until they came upon a break off point; a huge pipe for them to slide down to god knows where. She hoped it would lead to where the White Queen was headed so they took a chance and slid down. It was no picnic since the water running on their backs was freezing, yet surprisingly not moldy from a sewer. They eventually found themselves looking ahead and saw an opening to clear water to fall into; Damien got apprehensive in this instance because there might have been more piranhas for them to deal with. The drop from the pipe's opening was steeper than expected; they ended up in the water and both acted fast in swimming up to solid ground. Cara got out first and helped him out of the water after. For the time being, they were safe, but no White Queen or the men who were chasing her.

"You alright, anything bitten off?" Cara asked as she was squeezing the water from her hair?

"Ha, cute." Damien replied. "My face is still together. Where are we?"

"The golden stag mentioned this place. We're in a citadel; the only place in the temple where it's truly safe."

"Oh yeah the stag. I think I've seen everything now."

"Second thoughts about leaving Norway?" Cara smiled.

"One quick dive and she's a comedian." Damien said.

Damien heard footsteps coming from a darkened opening in front of them. Behind them had old pillars surrounding the spring they dropped in so they hid from whatever was coming. As the footsteps drew closer, Cara got a glimpse of what seemed to be the White Queen herself, but the two men followed and one shot at her feet which ceased her movements for a bit. She kept on alert of her surroundings and the men revealed themselves with one holding a rifle while the other carried a gun with a heavy presence to it. The banter between them sounded like they knew each other, but Cara whispered to Damien that they had to make sure the queen didn't die.

He told her to take cover in the shadows up on a ridge he saw to the right side of the citadel. She tip-toed with sniper rifle in hand and climbed up. He on the other hand wanted to get the rifle out of the equation so he lied on his stomach and crawled behind the guy holding it.

"What you waiting for, comrade?" One guy asked the man with the rifle? "Shoot her and be done with it."

"I've been running all this way so that you wouldn't shoot her. This is between me and you."

"You are still sore about our past? It's not like Raccoon went up in flames and those Umbrella bastards covered it up. I did what I did to survive, Oliveira."

"Spare me. You did it 'cause you were greedy. The White Queen is a non-hostile and..." He said before someone attempted to take his rifle.

Damien got elbowed under his left eye, but he got up and tried snatching the rifle from him. He then got punched twice in the stomach before a few punches missed the guy's face. On the fifth punch thrown, Oliveira grabbed Damien's arm and nearly twisted it before he used his left leg to kick Oliveira on his right ribcage. He then restrained Damien in front of him; he kicked his right shin and Oliveira picked him up with both hands and threw him towards the spring. With handgun in hand, both of them raised their weapons at each other.

Both were breathing heavily. Oliveira asked himself what a kid was doing in a temple; Nicholai offered to make the first move in ending Damien's life. As soon as he aimed his gun, Cara shot it out of his hand. The queen and the two men looked to where the shot was fired. It was negotiation time.

"Put the guns down please?" He said to the two men as he aimed his gun at them. "This man is right; the White Queen is not the one stirring shit up in this place. It has to be the Red Queen."

"Ingen taler syk av oss, demoner!" The White Queen shouted holding her head in pain.

(None speak ill of us, demons!)

"Calm down, Venezia. We're not going to hurt you. See, Carlos said putting down his rifle, no weapons. Put yours away, kid."

He put his gun away as Cara still kept her focus on the old, yet capable, man with the grey, marine hairdo.

"There is no need for negotiation. These queens contain the blood of a new virus that's going to be the last stage of human evolution." Nicholai said.

"What stage is that?" Damien asked.

"Immortality." He replied. "I've seen them in my journey of this temple; dead bodies and livestock used as guinea pigs, strung up against their will. You expect me to take pity on those strangers, Oliveira? The Valhallan Elixir is the key to molding the perfect human race. The Red and White Queens are living proof of that."

"I used to believe in you, Sergeant. All you ever cared about was money and using Umbrella resources to your own selfish uses. This journey is over, Nicholai. Why don't we settle an old score once and for all?'

Without warning, Venezia ended up behind Nicholai and jabbed her sharp, steel nails into his spleen. She then tossed him to the side, rendering him injured before she made a hasty retreat. Cara shouted at her to stop running, but before she was able to fire a warning shot the queen was beyond her sight. Nicholai got on one knee holding his right side, cursing to himself in Russian. Damien and Cara ran to where Carlos was and he told them to get after Venezia and try to smooth things over with her. He told Cara to go on ahead.

"Carlos, Damien said getting his attention before leaving, it's good to meet a friendly face."

"You sure I'm friendly? Get going; I'll catch up soon."

Damien ran off with both suspicion and self-assurance in his heart. He didn't know Carlos well at that moment, but he had a feeling finding the Elixir and stopping the Red Queen was going to be a lot easier. They chased after Venezia in hopes of having more assistance at their side; Cara tried communicating with the golden stag inside her. While he still had his concerns about her well-being, and how she was coping with a dead deer, things were looking up so he didn't question her resolve on that. Monica, Terrell, and Monroe were still missing. Damien and Cara were without contact, but the goal remained clear.

It had been six and a half hours since the continuation of his story began. Sherry was really impressed with the amount of information she was getting from him, and was also content with the confirmation of Carlos Oliveira in the picture. Her hunch was starting to become real. All this time Damien had not once sweated or gave into the pain Venezia had been giving him internally. In his mind that was either very good or his condition was getting worse. Weird thing was, he didn't feel wasted away. Instead, he felt alive, more so than he ever has before.

Maybe she was throwing him a curve ball, maybe she was still inside him looking for another way to control him, or maybe she got sick and tired of his past in Norway and wanted to leave in peace. Sherry told him they were going to take a break from storytelling, and that she was going to take him to lunch to rebuild their strengths. Then Mark knocked on the interrogation room door.

"Hey, what's up?" Sherry asked.

"Sorry to interrupt. Boss man wants to see you; something about that Chicago Senator?"

"Oh right." She said as she got up from her seat. "Sit tight for a sec. I'll be back."

Mark closed the door behind her. With his back turned, Damien turned the audio recorder back on and faced its red light towards him. He sat down to face Damien with a new outlook on his resolve. He alone knew the meaning behind his change in body type from skinny to average size. But there was one juicy question he was anxious to find out.

"She seems to be in high spirits." Mark said.

"Her hunch is right. The Norway mission is not some Government cover story anymore. I tell her the rest of what I know, and I'll be on my way home."

"Did you alter details in your story?"

"You gonna tell me where you got those glowing eyes back at the hotel? Did your "real" superiors give them to you?"

"We had an agreement, Mr. Walsh. You alter your details; Sherry presents them with our Chief Security Advisor and the board members, she'll be labeled as a liar, and will be fired from National Security. In return, I kidnap you at some random time and put you in protective custody. Or, you can keep screwing around with your options and I present this piece of evidence to the police."

Mark took out a file from his briefcase and placed it in front of Damien. Inside had old security photos of when he was a teenager back at the hospital heist in Denver. He explained the situation on how two security guards were shot by the accomplices as well as stolen cases of oxy, ibuprofen, and doxycycline. He also wanted to know about the man who paid his bail. He just stared at him for a couple seconds before turning his attention to the photos and police reports. Mark then said ex-military pilot, Samuel Travers wasn't in the service in any shape or form, but a grandson of an ex-marine who was stationed in Venezuela.

Travers only occupied the off-shore base with an expired permit. He had no affiliations to S.T.A.R.S or any rescue teams getting survivors out of Raccoon City, and that Damien and four other saps played into his hand. He then took out a sheet underneath the report; it was a statement said and signed by Damien himself before he spent the one night in jail. It spoke of the events at the hospital, and how he set up the plan with four high teenagers who went to the same school as him: "guns for protection and take what's yours." Simple instructions for minds of low common sense Mark pointed out. After all was said and done on Mark's behalf, all Damien did was chuckle at the outrageous feat one agent went through to put a stranger back in jail on charges he didn't commit.

"Heh, you laugh now. No judge in Washington is going to tolerate that in court, and there's more evidence I can pin on you.

"I'm sick, Agent Omahan. There is a virus inside of me that's been slowly killing me for nine years. These bullshit accusations, they're not going to hold with any court or police department. President Graham in 2005 exonerated me and two other survivors of our past deeds; free people. Though…it didn't feel that way to me." Damien said with his head down.

"The ceremony at the White House three weeks after you got back from Norway. I saw it on TV; your game face wasn't really believable but you sold it somehow. Wanna know a secret?" Mark asked as he looked Damien dead in the eyes. "I have a virus too."

His blue glowing eyes were shown in full view. But his chest had something beating strange inside.

"Who did this to you?" Damien asked.

"They have been running the vital lifelines of the world for centuries. Damien, he said putting both hands on his shoulders, this is your evolution event. I'm surprised you have been in full control of your actions this long. I feel her all over you. You have allowed her to show you the path to immortality."

"And what's your reason in getting Sherry kicked out?"

"I told you. She stole a great opportunity from me; then she fell in love with a global vaccine she shared to infectees. She has no place in this world anymore. What my "Family" wants is Jake Wesker; with you on my side we can take him together. The head of the Family will reward us for our efforts. Isn't this what you really want? I'm sure she wants that too."

"Get out of my face, Mark." He replied with a bitter tone. "My reason for being here isn't to fulfill your childish needs. Once I'm done, I'm done. You got it?"

"Enjoy what's left of your fifteen minutes of fame, Mr. Walsh." Mark sighed gathering his files. "Think about your options here, or Sherry won't be the only one getting kicked out."

He left the interrogation room with stern promise in his heart that if Damien didn't accept his "Family" offer, he would suffer the consequences. He turned off the recorder and suddenly, a text went off on his phone. When he looked at the message, there may have been hope for him yet, and that's all he needed to get through to say what was left of his temple tale. He said "thank you" to himself as he waited patiently for Sherry to come back and collect him.


	4. Part III: An infinite nightmare

Temple of Kurinthian

Part III: An infinite nightmare

"Why are you just standing there?" Nicholai asked in gruesome pain. "That cunt actually did it. All this running and avoiding the undead; it really takes you back to Raccoon City doesn't it? It won't be easy getting to that elixir at this rate, but if you give me a hand we can split the profits together. Christ, two kids; a shadow war within Umbrella's nightmare thickens with the next generation. Ha…we'll just have to teach them this life is a man's game."

"Do you hear yourself, Nicholai? At least have the balls to admit what you've done. Endless murder." Carlos said as Nicholai slowly rose up with hand pressed against his wound. "You really believe you can take on both Queens on your own, no means of fire power or..."

"Shut your mouth!" He demanded.

"You really think they're going to buy into whatever _bullshit_ threats you come up with?"

"That's where you're wrong, comrade. I've known you since you've joined my team. We are old dogs of war; our destinies are planned and executed. What happened to Mikhail, my reasons for being in that hospital researching the T-Virus data, killing those who were in my way? Years later I have come to realize that I was just another pawn in Umbrella's power game. My greed after getting a large sum from the B.O.W. data, it wasn't enough."

"Is there a point to this plea I'm not getting?" He asked.

"You were always a funny man, Oliveira; even in the face of the outbreak. I couldn't comprehend emotions like that." He continued still grunting in pain. "That lady cop you were with; spoils of war. If you are asking if I regret the past? The weak are expendable. _Real_ men transcend into greatness, and greatness is what I have come here for."

"Old fools do die with foolish pride. Put down your gun, Nicholai." Carlos said putting down his rifle and sticking his knife on the ground. "Let's see if the real man walks out of this citadel alive."

A quiet citadel sheltered two men of disheveled pasts to represent the setting stage for their final showdown. Nicholai was a greedy, heartless bastard who worked for a greedy, heartless company, getting paid blood money for killing his own team and made none who associated with him live to tell the truth of what happened. Carlos got the short end of the stick when he got hired as a mercenary from Umbrella. He thought working alongside Nicholai would give him an edge in surviving the outbreak, but there were moments where he would leave Carlos in the wind, making empty promises to get help when situations had gotten too dangerous. A few years after the outbreak, the government realized the Umbrella Corporation was a liability as much as a threat to the human population.

Nicholai moved back to Russia with the money he had gotten for his troubles, wasting it away on booze and women twice his age. However, he invested some of the money to the reincarnation of the T and G-Viruses in hopes someone on the Black Market would hook him up. Umbrella's resources were left wide open to all illegal organizations. He always had a get rich quick scheme brewing when his wallet was feeling light. Norway was his only card left to play; his client wanted a sample of the Valhallan Elixir, and as a bonus bring in one of the Queens alive, but with his recent injury the White Queen bestowed, "alive" wasn't in his vocabulary. He too dropped his gun and knife, raising his hand from the bleeding wound and clenching it into a fist. Carlos put both his hands up and readied himself for a beat down he was about to bring.

"When you see Mikhail, Tyrell, and Murphy, they will look at you as the traitor you are. May they never grieve for your death." Carlos said.

"If that's how our partnership must depart." Nicholai replied.

The two faced each other, and the fight between both war dogs began. Carlos had gotten the upper hand when he threw a right hook and uppercut on Nicholai's chin; he threw another left hook and kneed him in the injured area. Just when he was about to split his skull by bashing it against the ground, Nicholai lifted him up, angrily screaming, and hit his chest by thrusting it onto his knee. It left him coughing up some blood after. Carlos held his chest and kept his eyes focused on taking him down. He got on both feet and slid towards him, landing a round house kick.

Nicholai jumped mid-way and threw his left fist to give Carlos a severe shiner; he then grabbed his arm and attempted to twist it. He kicked Carlos three feet from him and with frustration of his injury, he walked with persistence and lifted him off the ground, head butted him, landed four straight punches on his side, and restrained him. Both breathed hard; for a man with old age taking over his body he still had some bite left in him.

"I never told you about my family in the motherland." He said restraining his neck and his left arm. "Before joining Umbrella, I was born with five other brothers. Umbrella's Russian Director, Sergei, spoke of an opening to join a task force in taking down bio organic weapons where S.T.A.R.S soldiers failed to kill. During the initiation process, twenty-seven young men entered Sergei's test grid. Only three of my brothers, including myself, were chosen for this final test."

Carlos had gotten some wiggle room and elbowed his left chest plate, grabbing the back of his neck and flipped him over. He walked to him and grabbed his armor and dragged him towards the hot spring water. Nicholai used both legs to do a half back flip and both his boots were pressed on his face, sending Carlos falling hard on the ground. He then stood up and grabbed Carlos' long hair; he threw three punches before pausing for a sec and delivering a fourth one. This gave Nicholai the advantage in choking him while he was down for the count.

"Cowardice is the enemy. Reliance on smart-assed comical shit heads, that truly pisses me off." He said tightening his grip. "I guess I should consider you as a man in surviving nightmares, but the truth is I hated your playful antics. You playing nice with that cop slut..."

"Leave Jill out of this!" Carlos said trying to break his grip.

"There were many women who have been disregarded as human beings. In a world where hardship challenges the strong, every man is king. I'm old, comrade. That Jill what-ever-her-name-was is still looking good after all this time. When I take the elixir and leave this place, my bloodline will endure. She'll be nothing but a breeding tool for my satisfying pleasure."

Growing tired of his hollowed threats, Carlos used both his thumbs and thrust them into Nicholai's eye stalks. He released Carlos from choking him and kicked his chest away from his sight. He then got up and lifted Nicholai off the ground; as he landed some serious impacts to his face, he said he had no right talking to her that way, that she was a better person than he ever was. Carlos landed one last uppercut which sent Nicholai towards the bubbling hot spring. Something was stirring in the water; he had a feeling it wasn't bubbles from the heat. Carlos had him on the ropes and head first nearly in the water, and suddenly piranhas were jumping out and gathering altogether for their last meal.

"Comrade please!" Nicholai pleaded as he spat out blood. "I get it. You want her for yourself; that's good. The real man has proven that today; just let me die with some dignity."

"Oh don't feel so glum, Nick. I'm not stupid; you'll just escape again. Did you know piranhas can devour a man in 60 seconds by their numbers alone? There is no escape this time, Ginovaef. The elixir will never be released to the world. Your death means another monster from Umbrella gone from this world."

"You're a real hero." Nicholai said to himself sarcastically.

As Carlos was about to toss him into the school of flesh eating piranhas, Nicholai attempted to stab him with a hidden knife in his armor jacket. Carlos grabbed his arm and both strained for the knife to head in one direction. Carlos took the knife and jabbed it into his forehead; soon after he tossed the dead weight into the spring. Blood and hungry fish were on each other like mad savages. With that act, He felt a huge burden lifted from his shoulders as he walked away from the dreaded event.

He picked up his rifle along with his army knife from the ground. Before leaving to catch up with the two teenagers he met, the adrenaline swiftly left him for a bit. He took a moment to compose himself; it was over. Carlos had been waiting for the opportunity to see him again after Raccoon City. It was a fool's errand for justifying the means. Before moving on, he said a prayer for the remainder of his last job as a mercenary. He prayed for safety with past experiences with the undead to guide him in getting out of Norway alive, and see one link cut off from Bioterrorism. As he was walking away with purpose still set in motion, the seven year score with his old Sergeant left a long, relieving sigh from his mouth. A monster from Umbrella's domain was diminished. When he had gotten some wind in his chest back, he made his way out of the Citadel.

Around the year 2014 in the present time, new information arose from Chicago Senator, Alexander Rothstein. Adrien showed Sherry what he found. According to past affiliations before running for office, Alexander was an employee of an airport terminal in North Dakota back in 1983. He went to college on student loans to study criminal justice and government. He had an aptitude in turning a crowd from a theater of devastating consequences.

But back then he didn't have a job. He couldn't pay off his loans until a young man of immeasurable wealth came to visit him one day. The name was unknown. Speaking of which, his real name wasn't "Rothstein" to begin with. Adrien dug some more and found out his full name was an alias to a deceased politician in Brooklyn. His real name was Lars Pikkons.

The mysterious young man saw Lars' situation as a way in bringing him into a fold of some sort. In order to pay back his debt, he would have to move up the political chain rather quick to become a Chicago Senator. Lars already had the words and the courage to use them; it was the money that drove him further. It was a typical vice but it was common for Government to see only money. Adrien also pulled up a news story that was posted around noontime. It spoke of Pikkons in talks with the Vice President in setting up military teams to take down the Neo-Umbrella joint divisions.

"Twenty-seven facilities discovered?!" Sherry asked.

"Real question is with the Chinese facility disavowed how are these new facilities being funded? There has been no known record of Simmons having connections to any other corporation while being Chief Advisor." Adrien said.

"He was a blunt individual when I worked under him. I didn't know much about his personal life except being a close friend to President Benford. Whatever happened to Tricell?"

"Tricell's in the wind after the Uroboros Project went awry in Africa; a win for all of us by your friend Chris Redfield and Sheva Alomar. The talks are supposed to take place this Thursday night followed by a Banquet at the Coraline Hotel on Saturday night. It's a mandatory occasion it seems."

"Good thing we made reservations ahead of time like." Sherry pointed out.

"National Security, City Council, a few commanding officers from the BSAA, high rollers, Pharmaceutical Executives, and a…third party; hmm."

Someone knocked on Adrien's office door. It was Mark in a subtle foul mood.

"Is everything alright, Mark?" Adrien asked.

"No, no, no problem." He replied while standing in a tense way. "Your storyteller seems to be in better shape than when he first came here. Kind of odd don't you think?"

"Maybe the hotel's feeding him well...?" Adrien said in a questioning tone. "Is there something you need?"

"Yeah I-I actually came here to ask you a direct question. When am I going to stop being your bitch?"

Adrien asked Sherry to check on Damien while he and Mark were going to have a one-on-one chat. She wanted to ask what was going on, but their smug expressions said enough. She walked by Mark with his shoulder hitting hers and went back to the interrogation room. Adrien closed out of the files he was looking at online and stood up from his desk.

"Nineteen months, Adrien. I have helped you clean up Simmons mess in Lanshiang, China, kept twenty-four hour surveillance on all C-Virus infected areas so the BSAA can be one step ahead. I kept the board members off your back so you can do your job properly without them dictating your every approach. What do I get in return, huh? I am tired of being your secretary. I have been with National Security way before _you_ joined up."

"Calm down Mark. We can talk about this." Adrien demanded.

"No!" He shouted before falling to his knees acting in agony.

Adrien panicked for a second before calling two other agents to take him to the hospital. Mark wasn't doing too well from what he could see. He looked like he was having a heart attack but tears of pure white came seeping down his eyes as well. Soon after, until the agents came in he was having a mental breakdown. He punched a wall next him and kept banging his head against the floor. The two agents ran in and grabbed Mark; he told them to stop what they were doing. Adrien expressed that he needed help…before Mark said what he really came in for.

"I'm done, Grey." He said in pain as the agents were holding him. "You're way too soft to be Chief Advisor. I've wanted to say that a month after you took this job. I quit."

"Take him out of here." Adrien ordered them.

"Stand the hell down!" Mark demanded as they backed away slowly. "Are you that blind, Grey? Simmons' heart may have been for the wrong woman, but his goal was always clear. Pretty soon our evolution event will come to pass; it's been prophesized. Genetic Mutation was merely a fluctuation of human kind. _The_ final step is the absolute. I'll finally get what I deserve. No need to see me out, Chief Advisor. My "Family" will take care of me."

"Hold up one second more." Adrien said looking Mark in the weeping eyes. "I am blind to some things, Agent Omahan. I'll admit that, but if there is one thing I do well in this job, is to stop potential threats and listen to my employees. They're honest with me, I'm honest with them. So, is there _anything_ you need to tell me?"

Mark's cold response was one of silence as he looked Adrien up and down with a look of disgust. He left his office while his two agents stood there for further instruction. One of the agents did notice his white tears and wanted to investigate something on that. This agent in particular was really good in getting past fire walls to unlock unseen information. His name was Agent Cori Brewster.

Adrien told him about a case he and Sherry were working on about a Wesker connection, and he needed someone to pull up some stuff about the Banquet with both the Vice President and the third party that was attending. Brewster accepted the offer in doing whatever he could to prevent another biohazard; permanently this time. Adrien checked his watch and he had three minutes left to get to his board meeting. He made a mental reminder to do another background check on Mark. Both were bound to get a reason behind the white tears and the reason behind Mark's newfound behavior.

Sitting in the interrogation room, Damien felt details of his past experiences in Norway were flooding back, but he was still unsure in what Venezia was planning to do with his soul. That one threat made clear to him on a paper covered in scribbles back at the hotel still boggled his mind. Right then he got to thinking; maybe taking Mark's advice in altering his details was a good way to keep Venezia from doing anything foolish. Before coming to Washington and meeting Sherry, he was a recluse with a poor excuse of an appetite and scars that would never cease to cause him grief. This time after a couple days he felt like he had some control over his actions; he could still feel her nearby, but if any pain was to come from that he would be ready.

Sherry came back to the interrogation room, and mentioned a coffee place called "Jupiter's Café". She said they had different sandwiches and delicious scones with lattes to calm even the most stressed mind. They went off to the café. A beige Sudan followed two cars behind them; Sherry didn't think anything of it. After a few miles from the Security building however she took an alternate route to shoo off the Sudan.

When they got to their destination the cool air blew past Damien's face once more. It was the same feeling he felt when being brought to the Agency for the first time. To him, the fresh air was a welcoming gift to his skin, no matter how cold it was at the time. He had a corn beef sandwich on white bread and bottled water while Sherry had a raspberry scone and a decaf latte. As they ate, she noticed him scarfing the sandwich down like he hadn't eaten in months.

"Sorry." He said when Sherry gave him a look. "I haven't had a good sandwich like this in a while."

"It's alright. Nippy out here though." Sherry replied while eating her scone.

"You get used to it; me living in Denver and all. It could be in the late twenties over there where it's eighty degrees in other states. So, when I'm done telling you what I know about the Wesker connection and how Carlos helped us in the temple, I'm free to go right? I go back home and forget this ever happened?"

"Damien, she said with concern, you have to understand something. What you experienced in Norway, what the world went through with all these viruses and death, that's something that's going to stick with you until the day you die. I lost my parents in Raccoon City; my dad used the G-Virus on himself and my mother died not too long before that. It scarred us. At least now we have a chance to have a formidable force to prevent future biohazards. We can..."

"I don't care about these things. I mean, I'm sorry about your folks and I can relate to an extent. My parents abandoned me and made separate families of their own, cut me out of their will and everything." He said drinking his water. "After Norway I stood far removed from the rest of society because I was too damaged to face it."

"What about this joint division for the BSAA you thought up; the M.F.S?"

"It wasn't my idea. It belonged to one of the survivors who came back with me. I hardly remember what it was about; something about being tired the Government keeps allowing these experiments to happen and needs to be stopped at their source."

"Wesker right?" Sherry asked.

Suddenly, he told Sherry he needed to make a phone call and asked if it was alright with her to use his own cell phone. She asked about the company blackberry that was sent to his hotel door. He checked his phone and it wasn't activating; it seemed to have run out of juice a little while ago. Then he checked his back pockets and made an excuse that he left the blackberry at their building. Sherry offered some change for a pay phone when suddenly she had to take a call as well. There was a pay phone across the street from the Café. When he walked to it he suddenly got a feeling someone was watching him, only this time he wasn't feeling any chest pain, not even Venezia appearing out of nowhere. He called the person who texted him the good news.

"Hey it's me. I got your text; you have no idea how relieved I am to know this…what's the problem…of course there's going to be side effects; I can take it if that means I'm going to be fully healed. At this point, I'll take anything…

Damien's smile slowly went upside down and held onto the pay phone machine so he wouldn't collapse. All the blood left his face and had this feeling of doom in his eyes.

…shit, has it been tested on someone else…oh Jesus Christ…will it be quick…yes I still want to take it. If there's any other way…please don't do that…h-how about this; you come on down to Denver and…I have no one to say goodbye to…I've lost touch with him. He hasn't been answering his phone or the dozen letters I've sent. You're the only one I was able to stay in touch with. If-if you give me some time I can fly you…goddamn it you think I wanted this to happen to me?! I saved your life for God's sake; if that monster had…no please don't hang up…hello?"

Sherry talked to Claire concerning her condition. She had a theory behind what had been causing her to be sick for the past week. Being a surrogate mother and a great tribute to counteract different viral diseases, she was running a Pharmaceutical company called TerraSave: the Umbrella Corporation that was everything it "promised" on the airwaves; to secure a better future for mankind. In essence, after Umbrella shut down its businesses across the globe TerraSave picked up the tarnished pieces. Quite an evolution for someone who was once a spunky biker girl on a zombie killing crusade, in the hopes of finding her brother Chris in Raccoon City.

_"You're in luck, Sherry. The cause behind you getting sick is temporary, but here's the mystery. Jake's anti-bodies provided a cure to the C-virus which ended any further airborne transmission."_

"Then what could be the cause?"

_"Well, that's the mystery. Your blood sample indicated your G cells were rapidly disintegrating whenever you were exposed to some unique herbal remedy. It must be a potent resource. Do any of your co-workers drink tea?"_

"One co-worker did once. During lunch, he poured something I've never seen before into his tea. Since then he had been feeling aggressive yet unnaturally determined. I've been working alongside him for over ten months. You think it's...well you know?"

_"In all my experience, I have never seen a virus actually help someone. Except two years ago when Leon was in Russia and some Freedom Fighter had complete control over the Plaga parasite. I don't know how else to put it Sherry. What you've been feeling may be an anti-viral agent to reform your G cells into regular human cells. You're healing."_

Damien stayed grounded on his knees as if he had the weight of a wrecking ball on his shoulders. He hung up and got on one knee as if he was about throw up. When he looked at the ground it had two feet with a man standing over him; Mark had been listening in on his whole conversation. Damien asked why he was following him when Mark acknowledged him in being observant. He told him he had stepped down from his position in National Security, for reasons that showed no concern for Damien yet.

However, he made it clear their arrangement was still valid. Something inside Damien made him snap. It wasn't chest pain; maybe it was impulsive anger. Whatever it was he got fed up with Mark all of a sudden, and slammed his body on the side of a wall of a Barbershop. The impact let off a loud booming sound while still keeping the place intact. Sherry ended her call and ran across the street to see what the fuss was about. With both hands scrunched up on Mark's jacket with eyes of radiant blue, he tried to fight what was growing inside him. Sherry broke both of them up.

"What the hell is going on?!" Sherry demanded.

"Go ahead, Mr. Walsh; tell her. Tell her our evolution event is coming soon." Mark said in an emotionless, yet cold tone.

"Evolution event?!" Sherry said as she was trying to wrap her head around the situation. "Mark what happened with you and Adrien? I got a text from him saying you quit!"

"That piece of shit didn't even know I was occupying my job as a nest. He'll do his research about the Banquet going on Saturday night. He's cleverer than he looks; he wants to prepare."

"Whoa hold on, what are you even...?" She said before pausing. "Why are your tears white?"

Suddenly, Mark grabbed both of them and with swift movement, he hid away from the public. They ended up in the back of a convenient store. It was desolate and quiet, and was five miles away from the Café. Damien was on the ground coughing with Venezia patting his back to get him on his feet. Sherry and Mark were frozen in time. It was this moment he was not only losing his mind, but everything else about himself, his perception of real world society. But that view had been long gone since he accepted the Norway trip years ago.

"_This is it Damien. Remember what I told you in the car the first time you were brought to Washington?"_

"_What did you do?" _Damien asked in disbelief.

"_I brought you your first gig. In the past since you were in complete denial of the gift I have bestowed on you I didn't bother with this one. As of late he has shown his true nature."_

"_You know him?"_

"_My blood is in him, but he is no child of mine. You sealed away that privilege long ago. No, he got this blood through viral transmission. Take care; the blood in him is only five months old so he has experience with its side effects."_

Damien didn't move a single inch from where he was. On both his hands and the stubble on his cheeks, he felt a cool, yet burning sensation. The urge to become what he has been avoiding was growing stronger than it ever had before.

"_How about a little incentive?" _She said before snapping her fingers and disappearing soon after?

The environment was in motion again. Sherry was trying to comprehend what was going on, but Mark hit the one nerve that was once buried bone deep inside Damien after all these years. He brought up his grandmother, mocking him and calling out on the crappy life he was leading when he was brought back to society. Then, he made a crack about dirt in his nails, saying it was hard to get granny ashes out of them. His eyes grew pulsing veins and snapped. He stood up and screamed like he didn't have anything left to lose, pushed Sherry out of the way, broke Mark's left arm and sent his right hand sharply through his chest. It wasn't the smart move; the white blood gushing out from his back was slowly peeling off the flesh on Damien's arm. Mark laughed maniacally as he was pulling his arm out, leaving him going into shock from the impulse action he took. Sherry couldn't believe her eyes when he was still standing.

"Come Saturday, Mark said as his chest closed up, everything changes."

He laughed once more before Sherry shot two bolts from her tazer gun. He caught them and threw them back; she dodged them and by the time she looked up he was gone. She went back to Damien and his eyes were peeled wide open. He tried holding on to his breath for a few more seconds, but then, he lost consciousness. He waited too long for a cure to be made for his chest injury; where would he go in such circumstances?

Hell? It sure felt like it to him; seeing and feeling the nothingness of what death brings. Would he go back to Norway and relive his temple horrors for all eternity? Up until he met Sherry, what he did there was far removed from his memory, and had only gotten bits and pieces back as he told his story. Was he to be embraced by the one and only White Queen as her own puppet, and become the final step in human evolution Mark was talking about? Her voice wasn't present; her face was kept in shadow.

For some odd reason, he opened his eyes to a city covered in embers and desperation. Death in zombie form was walking around him. He was in an alley way just like the one behind the convenient store in Washington. Suddenly, one zombie that looked to be a cop got a little too attention seeking as Damien tried holding him back from biting into his neck. He pushed the zombie away and when he was about to get up he felt constrained against the brick wall in immense pain. He looked down at his lower stomach towards the right; he saw something sticking out.

It was a piece of metal, but the zombie got aggressive and grabbed hold of his leg. Just when he was about to sink his rotting dentures into his flesh he got shot in the head. Due to the blood loss from metal sticking out of his stomach, he couldn't get a good look at the shooter. Before passing out, he heard a muffled voice that sounded like it was talking to others to get a move on; one muffled the name "Sherry". To what felt like a few hours into the nightmarish reality, he felt his shoulder getting nudged. His body was numb so he didn't know whether or not he was getting fed on. Another voice then came into play, kept imploring Damien to wake up. A face he had not seen in almost a decade was revealed.

"Grandma." Damien said in an exhausting tone.

"Thank Christ you're alive, Damien." She said getting things out of her pack. "I was very close to using my car alarm. Here drink this." She said taking out a water bottle.

"Can this be real?" He asked himself.

"Drink first; explanation next." She insisted giving him a water bottle.

She poured warm H20 in his mouth, making him cough four times after. He looked at his stomach again; thanks to his grandmother the wound was patched up. She then gathered her things and helped him on his feet. He hugged her right then and there, expressing how much he missed her.

"I don't blame ya. I basically threw you out when I needed ya most. Betthany did all she could until the end. I've been blaming myself for my mistake ever since."

"I left even when she said I could come home. You don't owe me anything." Damien replied pulling away.

"Let's work our way out of this hell hole. I've been lost here for hours; it looks like Raccoon City before it got shot into oblivion. It's like an infinite nightmare in this place."

Both made their way out of the alley and onto the dead ridden streets. There were exploded cars, blood, and debris everywhere. Even the zombies that were put down left a lingering odor. Along the way, Damien came across a gun left on an army man that was left hanging off his jeep with his entrails eaten out of him. Holding his nostrils closed, he ejected the mag and saw no bullets inside. His grandmother, Agatha, checked a couple of dead bodies herself for firearms; all the clips were gone with only her rainforest designed cane to defend herself. Suddenly she found a pocket knife with a blade big enough to stab any zombie heads coming her way.

"Take this." She said tossing the pocket knife to Damien. "Blade's sharp, I checked it myself."

"When did you become an expert on weapons?" He asked.

"This is one nasty city, my boy. I may be old but I'm a quick learner."

"What're you going to use?"

"I have _this." _She said holding up her cane.

He remembered her rainforest cane like the back of his hand. How could he not since that's where she used it whenever he touched something that didn't belong to him. It kept her home safer than any guard dog would; her father made it when he traveled to the Amazon Rainforest when she was just a girl. It got him out of tough situations with the less civilized types, and it was passed down to her as a sacred heirloom. She told Damien she held onto it until she went to sleep for the last time. As to what they were experiencing at this point, she said she was pulled into the city by means beyond her comprehension.

However, it was not only her that arrived, but anyone associated with them was in the city. Before finding him in the alley, she came across some of her bright, college Art students getting eaten alive by zombies, or something called the "T-Virus" from what she heard. She also saw Betthany which was odd to Damien because she was still alive after nine years. After five or six blocks of dodging undead and scavenging for anything useful they reached a dead end; a crater to be specific. According to Agatha, the crater looked to be destroyed by rocket fire, but there were no RPG's anywhere.

They couldn't backtrack to other parts of the city; too much debris and zombies roaming about. They treaded softly through the dirt of the crater, remaining vigilant of their surroundings. Four zombies rose up with dirt covering their backs; Damien helped his grandmother across the other side faster. She climbed up and when the zombies slowly closed in on him, his whole view changed. It was like he was viewing himself from a bird's eye view. His moves felt constricted as if someone else was controlling him.

Agatha highly suggested to, and he wasn't that delirious to hear otherwise, press the select button and go into his inventory to access a knife. Suddenly the environment froze and the inventory came up in front of his eyes. On the left side had a picture of his face, how much life he had left before flat lining. On the right side had the pocket knife and two green herbs. They were the same ones he recognized back in Norway. By some magical coincidence, he selected the knife and went back to the crater.

Right then he was put in an uncomfortable stance. His left arm moved one way which damaged one of the zombies with his knife. Three other zombies crept up on him so he moved away from them, and ran to the one he stabbed and did it four more times. The zombie went down and he performed the same motion for the other three. Agatha fared well by using her cane only and managed to bust two zombie heads wide open. The horde started walking out of the shadows; she then went to the edge of the crater to help Damien up.

They took a side street to avoid the horde altogether. Someone who has never dealt with zombies before his grandmother had a knack of knocking some sense into them. Being six feet under hasn't made her soft, and he loved her because of it. In fact, the more time he spent walking in the undead infested city, it started growing on him. At one point he showed cause for concern, knowing full well what he did to Mark in the alleyway. Maybe it was a test from the White Queen; he could still feel her touch on his ear lobe. As they reached the next intersecting street, they came across a half destroyed police building that said "R.P.D." on it.

"The Raccoon City Police Department." Agatha said.

"They must've been overrun. Jesus, what a way to go." He said holding his nose at the sight of rotting officers.

"Let's split up. We shouldn't screw around here long; the horde might come back this way. Most likely, there should be a PA system in the Chief's office. But _don't_ use it unless the area is empty."

"I'm not leaving you by yourself." Damien said worrying.

"You want to go back to Sherry? Do you want to rest after a decade of those wounds of yours? Then stop bullshitting around and look for supplies." She said walking ahead of him.

"She hasn't lost her spirit."

The scenery went still before turning pitch black. Only thing that came into view were the doors to the department, opening up slowly before being pulled inside. Scenery went back to a wide view of Damien and Agatha; lights were flickering everywhere and whatever happened to the building's foundation it did a number in blocking different paths. They were in the main lobby of the precinct. She went to where the holding cells were to look for any more herbs or keys to locked doors.

Damien saw a dead cop with its head blown off at the front desk; he had his knife ready and went to investigate. He saw the cop's gun on the desk and checked the mag for any bullets; there were only three left. He caught a break and put the gun in his inventory. In some ways he was still freaked out how he was carrying items and why he wasn't able to see from his point of view. The computer in front of him was still operational. It opened up to a group of twelve security cameras, all that went offline to what seemed to be awhile.

He looked on there a bit to see if any recorded footage was kept. One camera had the precinct going about its day around two in the afternoon. Another had a cop causing a scene in the briefing room; so far the camera feeds had no sound to understand what was going on. Suddenly he saw a live feed with green infrared; two people covered in white light and other objects along the walls that were shapes of animal heads. Damien thought the cameras were useless until he saw something rather odd about the infrared one.

The male shaped individual looked like he was carrying the second person as if she was a ragdoll. He took her and placed her on the desk; he was having his way with her from the look of things. He didn't know what was going on exactly, but before he made his assumption the infrared shut off and the light in the male stranger's office turned on. By the look of his attire, he was the chief of the precinct. As for the woman lying down on his desk, she was bleeding from her abdomen.

The chief he assumed was zipping up his pants and sat in his desk, staring intimately at his dead corpse. Damien nodded his head at the fact at how sick he was to be having sex with a dead woman. He heard a scream coming from the upper levels; he looked up and made his way to the stairs. The corridors were all grey, appropriate to the dreadful vibe he was getting so far. Across from where he was standing he got a quick glance at a little girl running; it was a slim lead in finding out what was going down. He followed to where she was going.

Agatha found herself walking towards a locker room. The door leading inside the girls' side opened slightly and she had her cane at the ready for anything to jump out at her. Her footsteps left echoing noises as she got closer. The door then opened the rest of the way in a violent manner, and a mutated Doberman stepped out. It had blood and his rib cage was exposed. It ran to her as she tried to bash the cane against the dog; normally she wouldn't have anything against animals but she was willing to make an exception in this instance. It knocked her down as it jumped over her head and positioned itself for attack. The Doberman pounced right on top of her blouse with her cane based inside its foamy mouth.

She struggled before kicking the mutated dog away from her. She then got up and limped towards the locker room. With the door slamming behind her the Doberman wasn't able to get his doggy treat with a side of kicking and screaming. Strange enough, the scenery went black and the locker room door slowly opened as Agatha was pulled in. The lock on the door was broken so she got one of the trash bins to barricade it; luckily the bins were heavy. In the girl's locker room, it reeked of sweat among other things she couldn't comprehend. Behind one of the bathroom stalls she found a health spray can. When she got to the lockers, one of them contained a picture of a handsome young man and his girlfriend.

"If I was twenty years younger, I'd make this gorgeous man clean my pool everyday…if I had one. Girl's not too bad looking either." she said before looking at the back of the photo. "To: Leon, love Cassie."

A haunting melody of piano music played in the background as she was looking in other lockers for resources. She found a written journal that spoke of the Chief of the RPD as well as getting some time off from Raccoon City to be with her family. On top of one of the lockers had an old typewriter with a loose piece of paper sticking out; she used the cane to pull it forward as she stood on the bench to grab it. Coming down, she made a personal complaint in how her back wasn't as flexible as it used to be. She then put the typewriter next to her as she sat down and read the journal.

_ "September 16th__, 1998: I'm so glad I'll be getting some time off soon from this job. God, some R&R with my sisters in Aruba is just what I need! It's not that I have anything against this job; it's just that nothing ever really happens here. To think the name "Raccoon City" would be something amazing and unpredictable. There were over eight homicides over the course of the summer months. My stomach still feels uneasy about the July 4__th__ suicide. Decent business man too; he helped people with their taxes. I'm going to have to cut this entry short. My partner is howling at me to get my ass in gear."_

_ "September 21st__, 1998: Can this day get any slower?! My phone has been ringing off the hook by my sisters. Jolie and Maggie mean well, but my god are they impatient. I get it my lovelies! Plane to exotic place=cute foreign guys for me to keep away from you ha ha. That Chief Irons…sometimes I think his "hobbies" are getting a little extreme. I've seen him singing to his stuffed moose in another language; Italian I think. I'm Italian. If my father ever heard those words, a sledgehammer would be the least of the Chief's worries. He always did have a deluded, perverted mind when it came to self-entitlement. Just because he eyes other female cops up and down they don't have a right to feel squeamish? Maybe it's time to transfer to another precinct."_

"_September 23rd, 1998: Today's the big day! Jolie and Maggie are practically exploding with excitement right now. We've already had our beach house picked out with every wine cooler known to man. Even more good news, I've been on the beat non-stop for the past thirteen months. My partner Randall said there was talk about new changes to the world by the Umbrella Corporation. "About damn time." I told him. I can't wait anymore; I got one last drive through before my last shift is over for a while."_

Previous entries from the journal owner named Carrie had nothing relevant to what was going on at the present time. When she closed the journal a piece of paper fell out; a discouraging note from Randall. It didn't seem comforting with the nervous words he injected onto the paper.

"_Carrie! First off don't worry. I didn't read your journal, but since this is your only form of expression apart from dragging me along I feel I should tell you that Irons is out of control. For the first time, I don't blame him. When are you coming back?! I tried Aruba but I can barely speak the language. It's been over a month and a half since you left. Listen, as your partner, if you ever decide to come back, collect your things here, go to your home and pack a bag. I don't know what's happening yet. There have been rumors about something called the T-Virus and it broke out in one part of the city. People have been panicking, and if Umbrella doesn't contain it we are in some serious shit. Oh no…no way…."_

The note cut off from there. Agatha's guess that one part of the infected city before it spread was where she was. She got jitters just thinking about what was going on outside; yet she couldn't figure out why she was brought to Raccoon City in the first place. All she knew was that Damien was alive. Before she left, she typed on the typewriter about her progress leading up to the locker room. It was only a few short sentences to get the point across.

Somehow she felt the world was going to remember her progress. She grabbed her cane and a glass breaking was heard. She pressed up against a row of lockers in front of her and shimmied her way to the left. Four Dobermans were walking around the shards, sniffing out for their food. She saw the door she came in and snuck past them to make a hasty retreat. Three steps away from the locker she extended her arm to reach the handle until she looked to her left; a doberman was staring right at her like she was his first kill of the day. She froze for a sec, but then the other Dobermans gathered around.

"Damien, protect yourself." She said to herself before swiftly turning to face the lockers.

She acted fast and got inside one of the lockers. The Dobermans pressed up against them as a group, barking and clawing their way in. Suddenly, the door to the locker room got kicked open and Agatha heard someone whistle to lure the dogs away. Four shot gun shots later, she used the cane to break her locker open and fell on her knees. When she looked up, a younger woman with red hair tied in a ponytail and an attitude came to her rescue.

"Ma'am, she asked Agatha as she helped her up, are you alright?"

Chasing a screaming little girl wasn't high on Damien's list. He was running short on breath. She sure was fast which was useful in a nightmare such as the one they were in. For a Police Department, it felt more like a huge museum with all its corridors and statues resembling Greek Gods. It must've been quite a place to work in he thought; the history of the precinct was not lost in the slightest with him. Eventually, he found himself in a place where there was a bronze statue, a silver statue, and a monument of a certain god with a description telling of the Red Jewel. In the center presented the God of the sun and moon playing significant roles in raising the jewel to its fullest potential. Judging from what he saw, it used to be a puzzle, but it was solved already by someone else.

He then continued on through a door which began the same routine as the others. Gunshots were heard and before he knew it he found himself in a zombie shooting gallery with a surviving cop. As the cop was reloading another zombie got too close; Damien shot the last one. His head felt it was hit like a drum; the vibrations surrounding the contents of his brain were teeth shaking.

"_I am near…Damien. I have to say I was extremely pleased with the way you asserted yourself to Mark. See, that is the man my blood has molded you into. Meet me in the Chief's office, you and your cop friend. It will all be over soon…"_

Venezia's voice faded away with a new voice speaking in a reassuring tone. The rookie cop went over to see if he was alright.

"Don't mind me." Damien said collecting himself. "The acoustics in this room are louder than I thought."

"What are you doing in the Precinct?" The cop asked.

"My grandmother and I came here looking for supplies. It's a nightmare out there. To be honest, I don't know how I got here; name's Damien Walsh."

"Leon Kennedy. A friend and I came here for the same thing. You wouldn't know a Chief Irons right? He's built like a house, thick moustache, steely eyed?"

"By reputation unfortunately. Did you see a little girl running through here? She has short, blonde hair, around knee height."

"Shit." Leon said.

"What?"

"She must be Dr. William Birkin's daughter."

"Birkin?!" Damien asked.

His prediction was right. When he was slumming in the alleyway, he heard the name "Sherry" and it must've been the little girl he was chasing. Damien asked Leon what year were they in because he only met the grown up Sherry in the year 2014. Leon replied they were in September 28, 1998; the longest year of Raccoon City's existence. He explained that he was running all over the city with a girl named Claire Redfield to find the cause of the T-Virus outbreak.

Damien didn't understand what he was talking about. He only heard of the incident once when his grandmother told him. Leon offered to help him out if he agreed to find Chief Irons and get some answers on what has been doing. He was an influential Police Chief who did many things for the city like he was a national war hero. He agreed to an extent and asked if he had any more ammo to spare.

Agatha and her well-armed accomplice walked out of the locker room after the coast was clear. There was a lot of commotion happening outside the station, but nothing jumped out at them so far. She thanked the red head for saving her life and asked for her name; it was none other than Claire Redfield herself. She had a biker chick theme going on and armed to the teeth with a shotgun. Claire contacted someone on her walky-talkie and a male voice she referred to as Leon spoke through.

"Leon, I found a survivor. Her name is..." Claire asked before being told Agatha's name, Agatha. She was hiding in the girl's locker room when four Dobermans decided to come looking for a midnight snack. "

"_Maybe we'll actually get someone out alive tonight. There's a young man with me who said he was looking for his grandmother; a Damien Walsh."_

"That's him." Agatha pointed out. "I knew he'd be alive. Honey, where are you and Leon?"

"_I'm helping him get to Chief Irons' office. Hopefully he'll have an explanation for this outbreak."_

"Let's meet up there then. Be careful you two." Claire said.

The conversation ended with common goals met, and were about to be followed through. Claire reloaded her shotgun while offering Agatha her hand gun. She told Claire she didn't need it, that her cane would do all the ass kicking for her if need be. Claire insisted a gun would do wonders in taking out infectees at a far distance. Agatha then made a snarky comment, saying she may be old but not blind. She was already determined to offer the cane spankings while the shooting will go to those who didn't fall in line. She led on with Claire following behind her, quietly chuckling at her ballsy attitude.

In a room where a man spends his days making phone calls, yelling at incompetent cops, and lounging at the animal heads hanging on his wall, he didn't have much of a social life other than being held in high regard as the Chief of police. He was also a man of dark, twisted secrets. Cops who have felt the weird vibes from him had no idea what his deal was. The fair few who have were either fired, or were made into a different kind of trophy altogether. Some say karma is the biggest beast of all; it bites you in the most uncomfortable places, even rip you apart limb by limb, and when karma showed up at the curious Chief's office door, it was more than he could chew. With a handkerchief stuffed in his mouth and chained to his own desk, Venezia sat in Irons' chair, relishing the loss of his arms as they were hung on opposite sides of the room. Fear swelled up inside of him, more so than the horrors that were taking place on the outside. She smiled while cleaning her hands with a couple of paper towels.

"You know, when I first entered this office you were dumbfounded. What was it you said? That I was an angel descending from the heavens to make love to your half century carcass? Okay, maybe that last part I made up. But come on, I don't like it when men pretend to play rough. It makes me, she said as she ripped his vest and shirt open, bored. I guess I should thank you for giving me the one night stand; my lady parts have been screaming for one for god knows how long. Now I'm going to ask you something; how you respond will determine where the rest of you go. Did it arouse you when you killed the Mayor's daughter and stuffed her body? Does it drive you mad that your paranoia has caused all your men and women in blue to run away? I bet the Umbrella Corporation has forgotten you by now."

Irons didn't take kindly when she brought up Umbrella, but his anger was brought down a few notches when Venezia brought up a certain female cop who was one of the brightest.

"Carrie Jensen rang any bells, Chief; a cop with seventeen years of experience finally getting a break from this god forsaken city? She was thrilled to visit her younger sisters in Aruba, until a moustache Neanderthal secretly cancelled her flight and medicated her from behind; only 24 years old. Such a unique age wouldn't you say? She didn't even fight back. How about, she said spreading his legs and chaining them, we reenact the taxidermy show you performed on her?"

Carrie was violated after being medicated leaving the locker room. Next to the Mayor's daughter he shot and stuffed, he made trophies out of them, and were kept as statues in his office. That was, until Venezia offered one last kindness to the two women by bringing them back to life to witness the slow and painful torture of their monster. They appeared next to her as she was about to perform her next dismemberment. His glass shattering scream was heard all over the department.

While making progress through the station, Damien and Leon heard a faint scream. Suddenly, zombies busted out of the woodwork somewhere; a low haunting hum crept from the corner and lined up for headshots. With Damien reloading his gun, he popped off three heads while Leon shot two and contacted Claire. She and Agatha were already aware of the noise and had a hunch it came from the Chief's office. They were closer to hearing the screams and told Leon they were going to go on ahead and see what was up.

"So, how long you been a cop?" Damien asked.

"This is my first day." Leon said as he shot a zombie. "It seemed like a lifetime ago though. This nightmare seems to keep going on forever. Maybe it's what people want."

"Who would want to live in the same nightmare for a lifetime?" He asked as she shot a zombie in the leg, pulled out his knife and stabbed him in the head.

"You would be surprised." Leon said to himself.

The office that once belonged to a sick man of the law turned into a twisted canvass of his entrails hung around with mutated versions of his stuffed animal trophies. Souls of his two recent victims felt a sense of gratitude to Venezia's delivered justice. She granted them safe passage back to their proper resting place with unhindered consciences. The door to the office was opened slowly; Claire and Agatha walked in and couldn't believe what they were seeing. She nearly puked from death staring her in the face while Claire put a handkerchief to her nose.. Blood and human entrails were everywhere; a morbid version of a painted mural. Claire made it abundantly clear they weren't going to stay long, but should keep both eyes open so they could avoid whatever caused the new office renovation.

There were two arms, two mangled legs hung on the ceiling, a rib cage, an intestine outfitting a deer and bear trophy, but of all the body parts just hanging there, Agatha became curious about where the head was. Claire found something covered in blood on his desk. It was Chief Irons' badge. Leon and Damien came in with a disturbing image placed before them. Agatha became filled with joy as she hugged her only grandson.

"You understand what I tried to teach you when I was alive?" Agatha asked. "Three times was the total amount I tossed you out of the house as a punishment. I wanted you to see how ugly the world has become; viruses and corrupted corporations putting people up shit's creek, only to find ourselves in this tasteful imagery. Oh, my mind's talking off the hinges. This is Claire Redfield." She said introducing Damien. "She got me out of a scramble."

"Good to see someone not feeding on flesh." Claire said while shaking Damien's hand.

"Grandma, this is Leon Kennedy. He's a damn good shot against those zombies."

"Glad you're safe, ma'am." Leon said shaking her hand.

"You are the most beautiful man I have ever seen." Agatha replied with a straight face and a sense of longing in her eyes.

Leon was flattered by her comment. Suddenly, Claire looked behind the Chief's desk and saw his head glued upside down under it. She screamed for a quick second and thrust her back against the wall. Agatha asked if she was okay; Leon went over behind the desk and saw the head as well. Damien then heard a faint voice calling his name; he slowly turned around knowing full well who it was. Venezia elevated steadily outside a huge window in front of them.

He didn't notice a window being there before. She extended her hand and the glass shattered into a thousand shards, flying towards all four standing as the shards turned to sand. Venezia flew in as two helicopters went over them to the red zone of the city. Damien lowered his right arm covering his eyes; Claire and Leon aimed their guns at her as she instantly looked at them with blinding white eyes. They jumped out to different corners as she incinerated the Chief's plaques and his animal trophies.

"Who the hell is that?! Umbrella's gone off the deep end sending her here." Claire said.

"As if we don't have the undead to worry about." Leon replied as he composed himself.

"She's the White Queen ain't she?" Agatha asked Damien with a tone of surprise.

"Highly perceptive Elder Walsh." Venezia acknowledged. "This office is at last perfect. Too bad it's sitting ugly at the end of its existence. I could've been an interior decorator."

"What happened to Irons?" Leon wanted to know.

"A fate worse than death as it turns out, and rightfully so I might add."

"This isn't you, Venezia." Damien said.

"I'll deal with you in a moment. Now, has anyone seen a little girl wearing a schoolgirl outfit with short, blonde hair? Word is she's the daughter of two selfish scientists." She asked looking at each of the four standing. "How about you cranberries; I take it you two were very close?"

Venezia toyed with Claire for a bit. Claire punched her in the face and made a bold threat if she laid one finger on Sherry. That was when Damien knew he heard right from the alleyway and chasing the little girl around the precinct; she was only a kid when Raccoon City was engulfed by the undead. Venezia gave an evil chuckle and back handed Claire, sending her flying over the singed part of the office. Damien implored her to stop, but Claire didn't want him interfering. When she got up with a bruised shoulder and soot covering her from head to toe, she was in the mood to teach her a thing or two about messing with a tough chick.

Venezia on the other hand called her out on this, saying she didn't have what it took to kill something like her. Just when Claire was about to make the first move, one quick second Damien sensed Venezia's nails turning to claws. He acted quickly by grabbing her arm with the extended nails, sparing Claire an untimely fate. It was bizarre in his mind; one minute he was by Agatha's side and the next he suddenly had the strength to raise his hand to the one witch who refused to let him be. She raised her right hand but he restrained that as well; Claire demanded to know where Sherry was. Damien gave her the luxury by allowing five more punches until a huge chunk of Venezia's face broke off. The bone structure looked replaced with rock along with white lines flowing.

"Dear lord." Agatha said to herself.

"Claire, get away from her!" Leon shouted.

"Last chance, Venezia." Damien said as he violently pulled her head backwards. "Where the hell is Sherry?"

"Fine, she's in an underground sewer that leads to the railway lines of a train station. I was going to use her as leverage against you." She said looking at Damien. "Be hasty, there are creatures down there; Hunters."

Claire told Leon they had to go and rescue her before she was eaten alive. She told Agatha good luck as well as Damien and bolted out of the office. Agatha transitioned from shock to astounded, but at the same time scared at the strength he was demonstrating. That was when Venezia broke away from her two arms by literally standing up and separating herself from her limbs. Damien tossed her arms out the window and she faced him.

He told his grandmother to get out of the department. She refused and wanted to help in any way possible. It was a mistake she said; in his mind he hasn't had the luxury in making a lot of good decisions. He relied heavily on heart medication which the irony was not lost on his grandmother, cut his ties off to the rest of the world after Norway, and he was sure what he did to Mark would be the cause of his death. He didn't exactly jump to that conclusion though. When he sent his arm through Mark's stomach out of anger, he was laughing maniacally and zoomed out of the alleyway like it was nothing.

It was funny to him. After spending almost a week in a temple, encountering things that would only be believed in spook stories, he could still be surprised. Venezia grew out her arms and Agatha nearly fell on her ass because of it, soon realizing the queen was just another B.O.W. that needed to be taken down. But Damien was still adamant about her helping out; instead she told him to give her hell however he could. Before she left he had one last thing to say to her.

"See you on the other side." He smiled at her.

"Here's hoping there smells less like mutilated flesh. Kick her ass, boy." She said before leaving the demented office.

"How touching." Venezia said before she swiftly impaled him. "You overstep, Damien. It seems I have been too lenient on your condition. I'll just have to fix that."

Damien looked up at her with blazing blue eyes. He was starting to lose sight of his human life, and suddenly he pushed her full force toward the burning wall.

"You underestimate." He said while his chest wound closed up. "I'm scraping you out of my head one way or another. If that means accepting the gift of immortality, I'm all for it."

"You forget." She said while standing up. "You've already killed me long ago."

She swiftly jumped at him and he grabbed her neck while thrusting her entire body on the gut ridden floor. Venezia reacted by kicking him violently and side punched him following a sharp back hand. She then kicked him once more against that same burning office wall. Blood and entrails fell on top of him. He stood up and she wanted to see what he had learned through her influence over the years. Without thinking, he picked up a thick piece of burning plywood, held it firmly in his hand. As he ran to her, he dropped the plywood on purpose and grabbed both her arms again with its sharp nails out like mini blades.

Each blade tip pressed inch by inch reaching his face, with one leaving a thin incision on his left cheek. Venezia felt disappointed from his efforts fighting her on such sloppy standards. Her guess he was still holding on to whatever thread of humanity he had left. Damien then landed a head butt on her, pushing with overwhelming force with one hand. She flew out of the window overlooking the city, ended up sending her nails into the foundation of the building. She wasn't ready to go just yet. Damien stood up just barely as he felt the cold, burning sensation throughout his body. However, he welcomed the feeling as a form of comfort and strength at the same time. He went over to the edge with confidence pacing in his steps through the slippery remains.

"_That's_ the Damien I've been wanting to see." She said as he walked towards her. "Your evolution period is taking shape. After tonight, any ties you have to your human life will be severed. Together, we will finally put a stop to the Wesker Legacy once and for all."

He suddenly stopped after he heard the name "Wesker." It was a name he had not heard since Norway; its secrets lied within a trophy room Carlos Oliveira showed him and his group. Brought back to the nightmarish reality, he kneeled down to see Venezia's satisfied expression; his entire persona changed. His skin was peeling off, revealing solid black rock as bone structure with vibrant blue eyes and blue lines running all over his body. Normally he would be freaking out over something like this, yet he looked well composed with his new lease on life taking hold.

"Beautiful." She spoke in awe. "I am so proud of you. All you had to do was accept the gift completely."

"This isn't you, Venezia." Damien said.

"It has always been me. He made me what I was. Take my hand." She extended her hand. "Pull me up."

He extended his left hand to help her back into the office. He then looked at his right, and covered in entrails was a pill bottle; it lit up with white pills inside. In fact, they nearly resembled the heart medication he has been taking to keep the chest burns at bay. He picked up the bottle, and had two choices to make: help Venezia or take the pills. A plot seemed to be thickening; maybe he wasn't dying after all he thought. But he had to act fast; time was short. He opened the bottle and placed two pills in his hand; Venezia went crazy and kept demanding him not to take them.

"I remember now. You're really not the same person Cara and I chased after in the temple. You helped us. Carlos did the best he could to keep you safe when your father was held hostage by Alex."

"Shut up! You don't speak of my father. You have no idea what I had to go through to get his body out of the temple; how _I_ had to bury him in my soul!"

"You don't scare me anymore. Whenever I tell my story you beg for me to stop. I wish I can stop; I wish I would've gone back home to see my grandmother's final days. I can't live with this anymore."

Almost immediately, he threw the two pills into his mouth and closed his eyes as Venezia screamed falling to her death. White light covered the entire neighborhood where the Precinct was. As the pills worked their effectiveness, the scars on his chest stopped burning. His eyesight was slowly returning to normal for the time being. He then felt his shoulder being touched, but instead of acting startled he recognized his grandmother's touch of praise as she stood next to him.

"I thought you were gone." He said being helped on his feet.

"You kidding me? I never miss my boy giving that witch what-for." She replied with sincerity. "You made the right choice, son. The White Queen is imprisoned in god knows where. Looks like the missile's going to hit us soon; we should leave."

"Why were we even brought here?"

"I've watched over you, Damien. For nine years you've tried to disregard Norway as a nightmare. Raccoon City was a dark, tainted moment in U.S history. Those who survived it sixteen years ago still haunts them to this day, but like all things that change us in this life, we have to accept it and move on through. Forgetting what changed you should never disappear, no matter how bad it was. This place was to teach you that. After all, a teenager survived a haunted temple; _my_ teenager."

"Do I really have to go?" He said looking at her.

"Yes. I can't stop you in what you do after you tell your story. Whatever you decide, I'll support it."

A portal-shaped hole opened; where it was going he had no idea. His grandmother told him he would have to jump through it to see the other side. He hugged her one last time and was told "good luck son." It hit him harder every time she said that; she was the only parental figure in his life that really cared for him. He stood on the edge, held his breath, and leaped off until he fell straight into the portal.

Next thing he knew, he was in a narcotic haze. The environment was blurry, slowly creeping back into reality with severe light-headedness. He also felt a casted arm with third degree burns. Sherry and the doctor came into view; he saw them clear as day. She welcomed him back and he asked where they were. Doctor Townsend acknowledged the fact they were in a hospital funded by TerraSave, under observation after the procedure done on his arm and chest. His earlier suspicion was right, an ongoing factor for him so far. The arm he sent through Mark had third degree burns but when it first happened it felt like acid with his skin peeling off in front of him.

His arm was skin graphed when he was under. Doctor Townsend also explained the status of his current situation; he said the tests kept coming up as inconclusive. Damien's patient history on the chest scars confirmed an animal attacked him in Norway, and miraculously survived. There were three blood transfusions that flushed out the toxins, but they kept rushing back. It was something he had never seen before with a patient. However, in a world where a virus can break out anywhere, he was going to take his condition with a grain of salt. A nurse entered the room and asked for assistance with another patient; he told both him and Sherry he would return.

"Give it to me straight." Damien said quietly. "Do I look horrible?"

"I'm not going to lie. You look like shit." She said straight out.

"Least ya didn't lie." He chuckled. "How are you holding up?"

"My Supervisor has put out a high priority target on Mark Omahan. What he did, we can't take any chances."

"I know. The world is still fragile after the C-Virus outbreak." He said feeling his throat. "Sherry, can you get me some water?"

She took a cup and went over to the fountain outside his room and filled it up with water. A huge sense of relief filled his throat; he was able to talk properly again.

"How long was I out?"

"Forty-eight hours. Your arm suffered the most of it." She said as he took a gander at his cast. "I got a checkup myself. I still wasn't feeling too hot."

"I think your phone's going off."

Before Sherry was about to spill the beans on what's been really going on with her, a nurse walked in and told him he had a visitor. A passing thought flew by thinking it may have been his friend he spoke over the payphone, giving him the disturbing news. However, it turned out to be someone he hardly recognized; his father. He had an upstanding persona about him; clean shaven, grey hair; no older than late fifties. His name was Richard Walsh Graves. He remarried a couple years after both he and Damien's mother, Claudette walked out on him when he was five.

Damien took one look at him and then turned his attention to the wall in front of him. The nurse informed both Richard and Sherry about visiting hours ending in twenty minutes and walked out of the room soon after. Sherry introduced her-self and walked out for a bit to give them some privacy. Her phone was still buzzing in her pants pocket. When she took it out it was Claire getting ahold of her again.

"Hey." Sherry said.

_"I got your voicemail. Is everything alright?"_

"About my condition. I've been thinking if there is a way...I'm trying to find the right words here. I want to keep my healing ability."

_"Sherry, that's not possible. The only reason you've had that ability in the first place was because of the G-virus parasite your father planted in you."_

"Don't remind me. Maybe there is another angle we can go about it, a harmless one."

_"Listen to me, it's too dangerous. You were lucky the G-virus didn't cause you to mutate the first time. After what happened on that airship crash in Edonia...I'll see to it you're never put on another one of those things."_

"Claire, what if Alex Wesker is still alive? What if the Family is still at large? I'm going to need any edge I can get to keep up with Jake. We kicked ass together. I don't want to lose that."

Claire sighed on the other line, thinking over what to do next. Sherry did have a point though. The world was put in a state where anything unknown can outmatch it. She assured her she was going to keep looking for alternatives in getting Sherry's healing ability back.

_"I'll keep searching around. Damn, how did you grow up so fast?"_

"Someone taught me well. A certain someone who refuses to let me ride their Harley."

Back in the patient room, an awkward silence filled its plain void. Richard sat by his bedside as Damien stared at the wall with an emotionless feel having an effect on his father.

"I know you must have a lot of questions for me." Richard said with silence following after. "Maybe you don't. Your mother…your_ real_ mother, couldn't be here because her daughter has bronchitis. I tried convincing her to have her sister babysit. She was really looking forward to seeing you. Son, when we left…there was no excuse for what we did. I was childish, I was selfish, but a year after your birth you became something I didn't want to fail. I-I really don't know how to explain it."

"You were afraid." Damien spoke finally. "At least grandma took care of me, and that's all that matters."

"How is she?"

"Dead." Damien said coldly.

"Damn. I don't know where to begin, son. It's…you-you're a grown man now; it's a miracle. Grandma's love sure rubbed off on you right. I can see that. Your doctor didn't tell me much; just that your arm suffered third degree burns and should heal in a couple weeks. Look, I'm a terrible parent. I kick myself in the ass every day after saying that." He continued saying before getting frustrated by his silence. "Damien, speak! Say something!"

Damien turned away from staring out into space, and looked at his father in the eyes for the very last time. He told him to get out of his room and never come back, but his father wouldn't have it and tried explaining himself again. That was when Damien got in his face, assuring him he didn't need his so-called family in his life.

"I'm going to pretend I never saw you so I can resist the urge to rip your fucking intestines out and strangle you with them."

"Do you think I wanted to leave you?! It just happened!" Richard shouted. "I didn't know what to think; I was scared..."

"Cut the crap alright?! You didn't know; you weren't there. But grandma never turned away from me. She was there every day for me. She and I have been through more together than you could possibly fathom, and by god if it kills me, you don't get out of my room I'll beat you down to a pulp and toss your ass out that window!" He pointed at. "You hear me?!"

"Fine." He said exhaling. "It was not my place to barge in. I'll just uh…I'll just go."

Without saying farewell, his father walked out of the room with his head down and both hands in his pockets. Sherry came back in and asked if everything was alright. Damien wanted to leave the father-son bonding moment under the mattress in a manner of speaking. Sherry then told him something she forgot to mention since they first met. Since the global clean-up of C-virus remnants, the Center for Disease Control have been working closely with legal Pharmaceutical companies to locate viral activity so the BSAA can neutralize the potential threats. The CDC has been all over the world in the last sixteen months, helping to detect the activity, until recently forty-eight hours prior they detected a viral spike in Washington. It was out of the blue, but what was strange was the spikes came from two infectees who had no exposure to the C-Virus.

Sherry had one theory. It was the time Damien went mad and sent his arm through Mark's chest. It must've triggered the detection she thought. CDC sent out stealth, viral detecting drones into the air and flew around the fifty states for accurate placement. While she stepped out to have Damien talk to his father she got a call from Adrien, telling her the identifications behind the viral spikes, hence the reason for the high priority target he sent out to Mark to apprehend him. He would have sent one out for Damien too if he and his research partner, Agent Brewster confirmed Damien was telling the truth after listening in on the story he was giving on the audio recorder.

Most of the facts rang true. It turned out President Graham back in 2005 wanted to keep the Norway mission under wraps. The reason was under the assurance that the Valhallan Elixir was closed off in the temple along with the demons that dwelled inside of it. Although Adrien tried his best to convince the CDC to keep tabs on Mark, Damien was the second anomaly and he was to be captured and experimented on. He wanted to know what would happen if he was captured; Sherry told him the same thing that happened to her when she was younger. She ended that vague response by telling him he wasn't the only one with inner demons inside of him. Her phone suddenly went off; Adrien was trying to get in touch with her again. She closed the hospital room door so no one would listen in and asked her to put him on speaker phone so Damien can listen as well.

"We're both here, sir." Sherry said putting her phone on the table.

"_Good. Mr. Walsh, you are well aware the Center for Disease Control has pinpointed two viral anomalies. I've done my best to keep their focus on Agent Mark Omahan, but the viral spikes came from a blood type that is unknown to the rest of the world. It may even be more unique than the C-Virus. We have reason to believe Mark is associated with a secret fraternity known as The Family."_

"The Family, she asked, Simmons' parents were the original founders of that society, yes?"

"_Kith and Kin were the founders along with five other members who police the vital lifelines of this planet. Their inner circle is always changing with fresh faces with old ways inscribed into their brains. They have been around for centuries."_

"They didn't do a good job did they?" Damien said. "The world is still fragile I keep hearing."

"_The members were around way before the Ashford family tree started growing roots. The elixir that was found in Norway was told by Kith and Kin. They were inspired by Norse Gods and the like. I won't bore you with the details but there have been other names for this elixir: Blood of 1,000,000 Conflicts, Valhallan Elixir which you both know, Nectar of the Fallen, or if you want to keep it traditional, we are dubbing the name as the "Immortality Virus."_

"Wonderful." Sherry rolled her eyes. "Another virus to add to the freaking roster. To think B.O.W.s will remain undefeated no matter what. I thought we were done with this already."

"_Sadly no; as long as some corrupt organization plans to make the world hurt these outbreaks will never stop. In our society, the Family is running the show. As for the Immortality Virus, Agent Brewster and I have managed to trace the viral spike back to its origins though not as far as the Norse mythos. It seems to be an evolved form of the Progenitor Virus made by Ozwell E. Spencer, but the old crock passed away four years ago."_

"This fraternity must've gotten ahold of Spencer's research and perfected the virus themselves." Sherry said. "You think this third party attending the Banquet might have members overseeing the event?"

"_Most likely. I guess that's the reason for the BSAA to have a military presence there. Vice President Keyes and Senator "Rothstein" will be there too. As for Mark, he's their human invitation, but the Family kicked him out of the fold."_

She asked why he was kicked out. Adrien didn't know for certain. On one last piece of research he logged into Mark's personal database. There was a deleted email with the Family insignia on it; the only thing it said in the message was "You're out." It only meant one thing; a public execution that would cause the end of his life and those he hurts along the way. He would mutate and start hurting innocent people, but in Mark's case the only person he would be capable of hurting was himself. It turned out each member that was initiated into the fold was granted a small vial of the elixir.

One drop would make a nervous human being confident and ready for anything. Two would make the weakest man lift a car, but drink the entire vial would result in serious consequences. Originally, the Family members would keep the elixir locked away deep within their inner circle, and offer outside members the impression of feeing superior without actually drinking the elixir itself. However, things changed. Adrien searched further in the database and found a hidden report about the death of the seven members; all that spawned from upper class lifestyles and global conglomerates. The mystery behind their deaths wasn't confirmed, but each member's death had a very specific kill set.

There was only one mercenary who would be able to perform such a task; one theory was Hunk. His last contract mission was in Raccoon City sixteen years prior. After that, his record was wiped clean of any further mercenary activity. It was unconfirmed if he died there or not. He told Sherry he was going to trace Mark's phone and see where he was going, and said if Damien was fit for travel to take him back to the hotel. Before he hung up, Damien asked him one more thing.

"I would like to go to the airport." He requested wholeheartedly. "I want to go home."

"But Damien, we're not done here." Sherry said. "We need you."

"Your boss found out Mark's intentions and what might go down at this Banquet. You don't need me."

"_We still have one puzzle piece left to find: the Wesker connection. Is Alex Wesker alive and what's his plan for using the virus?"_

Suddenly, he got a flashback to the temple. He was being dragged by his arms with blood dripping off his forehead and was half dazed to see where he was. Another flashback showed a monstrous cocoon saying cryptic words he couldn't make out; another was seeing Terrell on the ground unconscious and Cara screaming at the top of her lungs when a flash of golden light was leaving her body. An image of Venezia was shown staring directly at him from a clear, oval shaped prison and trying to shatter it to break free. That delivered a severe kick back to his head and brought him back to the hospital room.

Adrien acknowledged once more to Sherry to take Damien back to the hotel, and tell the rest of his story. He hung up the phone with her telling Damien she was going to speak to his doctor about discharging him. He inhaled and exhaled to get wind back in his chest as he looked at the pill bottle for his chest burns. It said to take two pills every six hours, but for extra safety he told himself, he took one more pill to make sure his "inner demons" didn't break free for a chat.

Apart from having personal conflicts to deal with, another was dealing with the same thing. Only this time, he was having a hard time focusing getting things prepared for the Banquet on Saturday night. Mark sat in his one floor house, sitting in a corner while the room kept swirling around his distorted view. He sweated through his business shirt; his eyes were losing their bluish glow, and the stomach hole Damien gave him wasn't healing too well. He lost a lot of blood finding his way back home. The elixir he drank was sweating out of his system.

His body craved for more, and he thought it would be smart to call a contact within the Family to send him another dose. Mark then crawled over to his phone in the living room, and dialed a special female comrade who was very resourceful in putting on a straight face when hiding dirty secrets. It didn't help her when she stepped down as Madam President of Russia though.

"Svetlana." He said in a weak tone. "It's Mark. I need your h-help."

"_This is not a secure line. Why are you calling me?" _

"I need more…elixir. I…wouldn't be asking if you didn't have the means to do so."

"_How much, Mark?" _

"You know the answer to that. _He_ most likely knows too."

"_How could you; you know how potent this stuff is. The human body cannot sustain high concentrations."_

"I-I know." He said wiping the sweat off his forehead and sees red in his hand. "I messed up. So what happens to me now?"

_"Didn't you receive your email? Forget it;_ _I would have to talk it over with the Head. Best option would be to detox the stuff out and wait for my call. I have to go."_

A fever would be an understatement compared to what his body was going through. However, with his heart on fire and his eyes still seeping white tears on his cheeks, detox was going to be the hardest thing he has ever done. He wasn't much of an addict on the illegal stuff except for taking valium in curbing his insomnia. His cell phone fell out of his pocket; it had the email symbol on the left hand corner of the screen. He was too weak to reach it so he had no choice but to stay still until the detox was over.

As Damien and Sherry went back to the hotel, he kept arguing how he wasn't needed anymore and her hunch was correct. The more he argued with her, the more flashbacks to the temple he got. They felt more violent than when he was having nightmares about them. The more he tried to forget, the more they harmed his mental state. She told him she needed his full story so she can present the details to her superiors so she can make a move against the Family; that's when she slipped in mentioning the fraternity. Damien was quick to call her out on it and wanted to know what The Family was.

Despite some setbacks on both their accounts, they have been honest about their views of reality. With Sherry telling him there was no escape from the nightmares he experienced in Norway, and what she went through in Raccoon City to make sure she still drew breath in the present time. Then he brought up the fact she said he wasn't the only one with inner demons inside of him, and seemed enraged about the experimental treatment he was going to get if the CDC caught him. To an extent, she felt regret in pulling him away from his life to tell his story. She was basically strong arming him since the beginning. After the arguments they had in her car on the way back to the hotel, Sherry finally let him in on a few grievances to put his view in perspective.

"For the millionth time, you don't need me anymore!"

"When I was younger, I was having a hard time adapting to the G-virus my own father gave me. Over time, it did adapt to my DNA and gave me the ability to heal my wounds faster. The Government thought it would be fitting to keep me as their guinea pig as they performed all kinds of experiments on me. They wanted a vaccine you see? In their twisted way, they wanted an end to all viral outbreaks. I bonded with the G-Virus and it's been a part of me ever since...until recently."

"Wow, I didn't know the Government could be so heartless." Damien said. "Oh wait, they can. You throw your ass on the line without any hope of making it, and by some shred of hope you do make it out, you end up being told by the President himself he "appreciates" your services. You think it's easy controlling a demon embedded in three scars? At least you can control the virus inside of you. I have to take pills while under the influence of my demon."

"Is it the White Queen?" She asked. "From the character features you described I checked profile references and came across another woman under a different name. The point is, out of the two energy sources that kept the temple intact, the White Queen was the one who could manipulate and kill without a thought."

"So what was her real name?" He asked.

"For now, Wesker is all that remains of this story. We know he had ties to the temple, but they haven't been as expressive as his brother, Albert Wesker. You tell me what he has planned for this elixir he had, and my boss will fake your death so the CDC can focus on Mark. After that, you can rot away in your home or whatever."

Sherry seemed hostile in his eyes. Apart from having a direct line to his inner demon, he still retained his human ability to read people. She was angry more so about something else. Maybe her check up didn't end on good news he thought. He didn't have a car or a sense of direction in where the airport was. Not only that, his body started to look thin again after taking three pills of a stronger prescription. Damien sat by the desk next to his bed while Sherry grabbed the sofa stool on the other side. Her phone had a recording function up to three hours; she activated it and got started.

"_I understand going home is top priority for you. All I'm asking is hang in there a bit more. Please."_

"_We stopped at the moment I met Carlos Oliveira right? He told Cara and I to go after the White Queen and find out what she knew about the elixir. Our group was still scattered at the time; Cara thought the worst. Both of us had to hoof it through a Church walk in or something, a path way where the Norse Architects went to reach the Citadel. But with the man holes teleporting us to different temple places we eventually became lost."_

"_Man holes, like the mystical portal you and Cara used to catch up with Carlos and Nicholai?"_

"_Indeed." _He replied.

"_Go on..."_

28


	5. Part IV: Reuniting lost allies

Temple of Kurinthian

Part IV: Reuniting lost allies

The pursuit of the White Queen carried Damien and Cara through a dark cave. They were far away from the Citadel and the ground they ran on felt wet; the air was also thick with the smell of blood and fish. Damien feared more piranhas would be on their tail, but he kept his handgun handy and continued running. On the other side revealed light showing a church environment; suddenly Cara got bumped and fell on the ground. As soon as she got up, the White Queen appeared and round housed kicked Cara's face backwards.

The sounds of the hungry unknown had gotten louder. He turned around and she lifted him up with both hands; he then fired a shot at her forehead and dropped him soon after. Cara ran to him and they tried to graze her by firing at her legs. She moved with speed beyond neither or their comprehension to the other end of the spooky path way. Chains were heard and deep breathing sent shivers to both of them.

"Stay still." Cara whispered to him. "If she's right they won't hurt us."

"They?" He asked.

"En utenlandsk morsel har falt til min fars kjæledyrene," she said before sniffing. "Men de sult enda. Morpheus, Blod bringer, nyter din hovedkurser."

(A foreign morsel has fallen to my father's pets. Yet they hunger still. Morpheus, Blood Bringer, enjoy your main courses.)

Two pairs of white and yellow eyes opened and swam back into hiding. The drenched incognito explorers had their teeth chattering and were stone still for a brief moment. The White Queen disappeared after that. Lights then showed two massive fish tanks on opposite sides of the walkway. It showed broken skeleton parts covered in teal green water with red blood strands flowing in the tanks. To make matters worse, the passage leading to the church area closed off and all three were left to deal with whatever was feasting on those bones. Carlos caught up to them and was overwhelmed in their predicament. From what they were able to see, it looked like they were in an aquarium that housed two big piranhas from the pedestals which described their origins in front of their tanks.

"Querido deus." Carlos said looking at the tanks. You two been running all this time?"

"We didn't run far." Damien said. "Give or take a mile and a half."

"She got away again, Carlos. She spoke in Norse about feeding time on human meat or something."

"Only a mile; try ten." Carlos replied. "This temple is three miles wide from the schematics I was shown. I can't explain it, but it's like time shifts whenever you enter a new area."

"Guess that explains the man hole we jumped in to catch up with him and…Nicholai." Damien told her before looking at him.

"You mean _portalgensere? _I've been brushing up on the language before I got here. It means "portal jumpers"; you can't really find them anywhere. They have to come to you." Carlos said as Cara looked away. "Uh, let's learn more about these Piranhas and find a way out."

Carlos took a look at the pedestal that said "Blodbad" while Damien and Cara checked out Morpheus. The inscription for Blodbad (Carnage of the deep) spoke of a food shortage within the seas of Niffelheim. Underwater life kept searching and scrambling for day cycles on end, looking for alternate ways to survive. Each creature had a specific purpose in evolving hell's ecosystem; some would migrate, others would telepathically speak to other creatures to keep their minds off consumption, even fight each other in sport to pass the time. But when tainted humans have fallen from the graces of the nine realms, some would go off track and fall into the Niffelheim Sea. From there, the creatures of Hell's deep waste would feast immensely.

However, that has always been the case for souls to tumble into the water accidentally. The Blood Queen of Helheim offered a gift; a man eating fish nearly twice the size of an actual elephant was sent to other bodies of water with great discretion. This was because the fish had camouflaging capabilities and offers no warning to other victims before they are consumed. Its' rigid stomach is built like a cage, housing swallowed creatures and brought back to Helheim so the creatures there could feast. Up until Ragnarok, Blodbad was a provider for protection and food offerings, all under the blessing of Maeori.

All this time Carlos thought the fish was male; it was female. Blodbad swam back to the nine realms in search of her body. Blodbad consumed thousands of souls on sunken ships with no proper direction to find her master. After the time of Norse Mythos was over and a New Age came to pass, Blodbad finally found a sarcophagus which contained Maeori at last. She consumed the coffin to keep it safe and saw no further reason to swim on. She then took leave in the darkest depths of the sea to hibernate, in hopes to never awaken again.

He couldn't find any more information on the creature. He knew he would be up shit's creek if he ever went toe to toe with an underwater garbage disposal. Suddenly, he found something odd on the far end of the tank. It wasn't there before; a body was shown severely mangled, yet eerily well preserved compared to the tank of bones lying about. From what he was able to distinguish, the body had bits and pieces of military grade armor and one foot still sported a boot he recognized better than the rest of it. Damien and Cara read up about Morpheus: a torturous man sized eel that gained powers from a lightning filled rainstorm.

Morpheus originated from the sea world of Mimir: God of wisdom. He was a water spirit who took refuge from the ruthless Vanir: a race of wealthy gods who offered judgment to his land. But soon he had his head dismembered and sent to Odin as a trophy. On the unknown history of Mimir, he created a failsafe if for some reason the Vanir took him alive and tortured him. Half of his soul was inhabited through all his sea children: carp, sea plants, and eels in particular. The population for eels was small; around 2,000 as opposed to the 1.4 million of the total population.

On the eve of his death, he put his failsafe into motion. Half of his souls was released into tiny sparks and embodied each creature. The Vanir arrived the next day and began a mass cleansing of Mimir's domain. Morpheus was one of 843 remaining eels that survived. The spirit of Mimir still guided Morpheus and his species with enough wisdom to exact revenge on one of Vanir's finest; the goddess Gullveig. She originally was to be executed in an open war on the Aesir, but the eels beat them to it. Her death sent a message that what they did to Mimir would not go unpunished. The battle was literally fought to the last soul. Norse history deemed unknown as to whether or not Morpheus survived the onslaught. However, the golden stag spoke through Cara to offer insight.

"_This eel of electricity is still believed to be inhabited by Mimir." _She told Damien.

Cara didn't open her mouth once. There was a reason for why speaking was forbidden for eels. Damien opened his mouth when she signaled him not to speak.

"_Morpheus was circling around the spirit world, trying to rebuild what the Vanir had taken. It was 300 hundred years after Ragnarok, around the turn of the New Age. He was spotted and captured by one of the Architects who built this temple, Cornelius Harroth. Before joining the other Architects, he was a fisherman with immeasurable talent. If the Gods wanted a trophy of a certain species where other men of the sea dare not traverse, Cornelius would be called through his dreams. In return, they would give him promise of good health and safe passage to fish on the shores of Yggdrasil."_

"_So how come we can't speak in the open?" _Damien mentally asked.

"_For some eels, they have an acute sense of hearing. Morpheus's hearing is highly sensitive to sonar. Whatever you intend, do not speak while standing in front of this glass. As long as you do not show provocation, he will let you be."_

Cara was herself again and both looked at Carlos staring at a floating body, not moving an inch. They took one last gander at their tank before moving onto Blodbad. Damien noticed a look on Carlos's face as if he knew the man behind the corpse. When he looked himself, the body did look familiar. He said it was Nicholai.

"It's funny." Carlos explained. "I don't feel sad, I don't feel remorse. What irks me is what he was planning to do if he got his hands on the elixir."

"You two go way back?" Cara told him.

"Dead on observation." Carlos acknowledged. "In Raccoon City, me, Nicholai, and my friend Mikhail were part of a military unit under the guise of the Umbrella Corporation."

"I was there when it happened; the viral outbreak." Cara said.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"I wasn't really all that young; I was only eleven. I lost my aunt to flesh eating monsters that night, still can't get it out of my head sometimes."

"He seemed like a douchebag when we saw him. No offense." Damien said.

"He was a lot of things; greed being the pinnacle of his character flaws. Since Raccoon I wanted to kill him for the things he's done. Moral of the story guys, the real man sought retribution."

For the time being, they were safe from any incoming surprises from man sized fish. They gave each other insight on Blodbad and Morpheus and neither one of them were in the mood to take on water with them today. In front of them lied a door with a statue in front of it. This time, the man behind the statue did not resemble any gods. Damien went on ahead to see who he was; they couldn't believe it was a tribute to the late Archer Kurinthian.

Carlos and Cara took a look. He thought it didn't make any sense. He said from what he was told about his mission, Archer was just an Architect; his entire team for that matter. Their only purpose was to dust off the cobwebs and construct broken passageways that were caused by seismic occurrences in Norway. Damien brought up the last update on the Kurinthian project was back in the seventies. Why would a statue of him be made to commemorate an aquarium?

There was an engraved message at his feet. Cara deciphered it and said the aquarium consists of jump scares and dire consequences. To open the door behind the statue they would need two items: the barb of Morpheus and the tooth of Blodbad. The glass that surrounded the dreadful waters of both creatures turned to jell, causing the penetrator to choose what he/she touches or suffer the loss of a limb. Suddenly, a rectangular platform rose a few inches from the ground behind them. Carlos and Damien pushed the statue onto it and steam rose from the tank's glass. Seven dark blue stones the size of baseballs rose from the depths of the water, and levitated in weird shapes. The other tank that housed Blodbad emerged fossils; they contained Norwegian names he has had the pleasure of consuming.

"Lots of cool shapes." Damien said.

"Let's get to work." Carlos insisted. "The sooner we catch up to Venezia, the greater edge we have against her sister and Wesker."

"Agreed." Cara said.

"Wait, who's Wesker?" Damien asked before attending to Morpheus's tank.

In a dark and abysmal place of the temple, prisoners were captured and placed in cages among the assembly lines of the temple. In there, time moved slowly; a prisoner could sleep in filth and piss for days, even months, and when they decide to wake up on their own accord, only a few hours have passed. To Monica, it felt like days since she got captured by the White Queen's dung beetles and got separated from Monroe. As she woke up, her vision was blinding; the atmosphere around her became stifling as her senses fell back into place. One of her eyes cleared and showed a grim reality below; cages full of disheveled souls reeked.

Some others fought in their cages while others fed on corpses who couldn't handle the feeling of a slave anymore. She slowly hoisted herself to sit up and her body ached everywhere. She kept feeling around for her weapons but an elderly prisoner sitting across from her said they took all of her possessions. It was dark and she had no idea how high up her cage was, let alone worrying if it was going to break loose.

"You should count your lucky stars, kid." The elder prisoner said coughing. "You were unconscious when they tossed you in here."

"Who are you; where am I...?" She asked while feeling half asleep.

"You're in a prison assembly line, overseen by a watcher known as the Vessel. No need to worry; you're not infected. Otherwise you would be in the vault, drinking Nectar of the Fallen."

"You spew too many tenses, old man." She replied propping herself up.

"Forgive me. This little girl feels my voice keeps her safe. We all need some hope to get through this."

"She your granddaughter or sum-thin?" Monica asked.

"She was curled up in a ball when they dropped me in this cage, scared and alone. I wanted company and she needed a protector to watch over her. I make sure she doesn't get taken."

"That's…decent of ya I suppose. Listen um..." She said before he interrupted.

"Ethan." He introduced himself.

"Ethan. Did you happen to see a slender type, round late '20s? He's English; was captured the same time I was."

"You mean that feller sitting next to you?" Ethan pointed to the prisoner next to her and she freaked. "Sadly, he doesn't say much, but the accent is English enough."

Monica placed her hand over her mouth and couldn't believe the anguish and violence bestowed Monroe. His skin was slashed; he was unable to move any of his muscles. She said his name to make sure he was still breathing, and asked Ethan what caused his suffering. He claimed he had seen this before on another inmate. The process of being a prisoner is being labeled as a candidate to become the final step of human evolution. They are all capable of becoming something more than themselves, but the procedure was not a cakewalk from what Monroe endured.

A prisoner would have to be beaten down first, break all of his or her defensive barriers so there wouldn't be any resistance bathing in the Valhallan Elixir. If one intends to fight back, depending on how strong their resolve is they would last five minutes; a minute after trying to escape and four minutes of violent beatings, all performed by the undead. T-Virus B.O.W.s can only walk slow and feed on flesh, but undead who have tasted the elixir would become a lot more threatening. Their movements are still slow, yet they make up for it in numbers, and once they catch a prisoner it won't be flesh they'll be after, but to make a human being completely useless. Ethan assumed Monroe was tougher, endured the beatings and still got thrown back in a cage.

It didn't make sense to him. When Monica asked him how long they have been here, he said for her only four days, the little girl Kelley was held captive for three years while he endured two years of filth and expulsion from the world. It was going to take a while for her to sink in the reality of the situation; it wasn't hard for her though. She was never really a stranger to monsters in her own slammer. She didn't even have her own clothes, just rags. The more she looked at how much Monroe went through she blamed herself for all the times she made fun of him on the base.

A throbbing head and desperation wasn't enough to keep a survivor down. The arena's acoustics roared all the way up to the high heavens of the world. Undead horde after horde cheered for Terrell to be finished off by the Kranner-Wolf. Both sat on opposite corners of the arena, struggling to find the strength to get up and get the show on the road. Whenever Terrell tried to stand up with the Gungnir to support him, he would fall back down and sounds of laughter would fill the stone bleachers. In the mezzanine overlooking the fight, the Red Queen Maeori and a shadowy individual, discussed what was going to happen to the White Queen.

"Jeg innrømmer, min søster vokser uberegnelig. Hun ingen lengre andeler vårt mål for elixir."

(I admit, my sister grows erratic. She no longer shares our goal for the elixir.)

"Hun er ikke uberegnelig, er hun lur. Venezia ut smarted du ; hvordan hennes far som blir sørget for henne å bryte fri er hinsides meg." He said.

(She's not erratic, she is cunning. Venezia out smarted you; how her father arranged for her to break free is beyond me.)

"Hennes far, Maeori said, slik vet hun. Fartøyet har lurt henne ved troen hun deler blod med ham."

(Her father; so she does know. The Vessel has fooled her into thinking she shares blood with him.)

"Ikke å bekymre min bloddronning. Intruders er i vårt hjem; de har vært overlevende i mange hindringer, spesielt denne." He said about Terrell.

(Not to worry my blood queen. Intruders are in our home; they have been survivors in many obstacles, especially this one.)

"Mester, jeg har bestemt seg," she said with excitement. "Jeg ville like denne menneskelige betrothed til meg. Jeg vil lage ham konge."

(Maestro, I have decided. I would like this human betrothed to me. I will make him king.)

He blatantly said "no" and Maeori quickly objected. That was when Terrell finally rose with blood simulating as tears as they ran down his mangled face. His breathing labored; adrenaline ran low with a semi firm grip on his spear. As for the wolf, losing an eye and having over a hundred slices on his body only angered the savage beast. The shadowy individual saw this with his own eyes, and assured Maeori about what it meant to rule.

"En hersker må gjøre uansett hva er nødvendig å utvikle seg i et ufullstendig samfunn. Men han må vite at begrensningene av hans kraft eller det ville korrumpere ham. En hersker kan gjennomføre en store mange prestasjoner; lag fjellløfter bare å sende verdenen inn i kaos. Min far og hans liker søkte kraft gjennom vitenskap og vreden av guden. Det vil være deres undergang snart."

(A ruler must do whatever is necessary to evolve in an incomplete society. But he must know the limitations of his power or it would corrupt him. A ruler can perform a great many accomplishments; make mountainous promises only to send the world into chaos. My father and his equals sought power through science and the wrath of god. It will be their downfall soon.)

"Du er ikke din far, eller din bror. Navne «Wesker» tilhører mannen som står før meg."

(You are not like your father, or your brother. The name "Wesker" belongs to the man standing before me.)

Maestro allowed her to continue the match. Terrell had one edge left; before the wolf's skin was hard to penetrate with the spear. He grew tired of toying with him and wanted to end his torment once and for all. Suddenly he mentally put his edge into motion; the wolf had one last fight in him so he opened his crooked jaw in hopes of chomping Terrell's head off. Both started limping to each other while the wolf gained more momentum; he ran with full might and Terrell dropped on his back in the sand.

The wolf jumped over him, and with one last act of finishing the match Terrell threw the spear with all his strength, seeing it fly with air piercing distance. In an instant, the wolf got hit in the center of his chest and gave one last roar to the undead crowd before falling to his eternal sleep. Terrell lied on his side and had the luxury to feel satisfied of killing something bigger than he was. Undead hordes around the arena snarled and yelled in amazement. Maestro was a bit taken by this feat, but was civil enough to believe anything was possible.

"Det er gjort da. Min konge er en mester." Maeori said.

(It is done then. My king is a champion.)

"Han kan være verdig av elixir ennå. Med hvilket språket er han fortrolig," Maestro asked?

(He may be worthy of the elixir yet. What language is he familiar with?)

"Den felles tungen." She told him as he got up and offered congratulations.

(The common tongue.)

Staring at the carcass of the Kranner-Wolf, Terrell slowly got up with right hand pressed against his side and regaining his sight. Maestro spoke in English as a form of congratulations to the human champion. He signaled the undead to settle down and sit in their seats.

"_Terrell Amaro, you have fought well in my temple. This human is worthy of recognition and is privileged to drink from the Valhallan Elixir. Terrell, go to your fallen, take the Gungnir from his back, and see your past severed from existence."_

He didn't understand what he meant by that, but he limped on over to the dead wolf. As he got closer the carcass began changing shape. It went from a man sized wolf to just…a man; naked and damaged all over. He stood over a body of another human, pulling the spear out as he turned him over to see his past slap him across his violently etched face.

"Daryl." He said in a tormented tone.

"Brother, he replied in pain with his eyes closed, you live. I am glad."

"This can't be. No, no this can't happen. I…how…why in god's name." Terrell struggled before Daryl spoke.

"I'm sorry. These people are demons. They lack remorse like those jackals in our village long ago."

"I told you to take care of mother?" He quietly scolded him. "Why do you leave her unattended?"

"Mother, Daryl said before coughing up blood, lives in memory. I don't have much time…"

"What is happening?" Maeori asked.

"The fallen has shown his true self." Maestro pointed out.

Daryl with his last few breaths explained to Terrell why he left the states to come to Norway. Their mother was captured by fever, and worry that her second oldest would never come back from his freedom fighting. Last November of 2004, he heard rumors about Norway in possession of a temple, and a solution to cure illnesses. The more she worried the sicker she got; he tried his best to keep her cool and alive but nothing was working. He didn't have enough money for pharmacy bought medication, let alone having a house doctor come every week to check on her.

He didn't get all the details behind the temple. He was more worried in getting her better, and any chance he could by practical means he was going to do it. He took his friend's boat and docked harbor after harbor to get to Norway. It took him two weeks to ask around if anyone was brave enough to be his tour guide finding the temple. There was yellow tape and warnings from strangers to not head out north; grave dangers took a heavy presence there. Eventually, he was able to accommodate himself with a map and took the risk of handling whatever was going to come at him.

At heart, he was a fighter in helping Terrell, Kinrin, and Malachai defend their village from Mercenaries. The rest of what he could remember were fragments; killing some undead here, avoiding detection from giant insects there, solving a puzzle to reach a gargantuan sized library. He said the Maestro must've taken his humanity in vain by making him feel like a worthless fool exploring things he did not understand. He explicitly blamed the Red Queen for molding him into the fallen beast revealed beforehand.

"Stay your words, brother." Terrell insisted. "You have to save your strength."

"No, he coughed, listen…you have to hear this. Our family has suffered many hardships with civil war and blood. We didn't deserve any of that. Yet war took our father under a swift hail of gunfire. The Red Queen promised me she would help me heal mother, if only I had served her for a while. I did everything she asked, but my actions were of a beast instead of man. You never…came to visit us. You…broke your promise."

"Daryl, he consoled him, please no more. I should never had left you and mother that day. I thought of myself only. Peace will find you soon, brother."

"Terrell, he said lifting his left palm for him to grasp as bond, you show that Maestro and his tainted wenches how an Amaro defends his own. We will see you…ugh." He said before passing away.

The last of his family, one Terrell had not seen since he joined the freedom fighters in his village, died in his arms in a matter of minutes. This moment was when his strength, his sense of mind, it was all in shambles as he sat bloodied and beaten in his own right. He looked at the spear with blood covered all over, blaming himself for causing the deed. It became too much for him to sink in when his humane defenses dropped down to nil. The Red Queen was tasked by Maestro to retrieve Terrell and prep him for his last bath to take in the elixir.

She flew down to the arena, raising both her hands telling the undead to leave the place at once. She then spoke in a sultry voice that it was time for him to go, but his mind was far removed from the reality around him. Fever driven and angry, he knew to have any justice done for his family, he would have to find the elixir himself and bury it somehow. Anyone or anything that was his burden in the past tense became completely foreign. As soon as her hand touched his shoulder, he quickly reacted by grabbing the spear and aimed it at her neck. She laughed at his feeble attempt to look threatening.

"My sweet, it's over." She said as she moved backwards with him following suit. "You killed the savage beast, thereby cleansing a young man's sins. It is not murder, it is necessary."

"My family is gone." He said with pain in his voice. "That was my older brother you made me kill."

"So what?" She said not caring whatsoever. "I knew all along he was related to you. His face reflected in your eyes the moment we met in the library. It is all part of accepting the elixir; tearing away from human emotion and grasp a higher form of you meager existence. Guess what? you and I are to be betrothed. Ha, I haven't been this happy since I fucked the guts out of my last lover."

Terrell screamed and swung the spear to try and cut her head off. Dodge after dodge, the anger slowly turned to exhaustion. Suddenly, Maeori snatched the spear away and back handed him to the sand. Barely breathing and clasping on to whatever life he had left, he saw her break the blade part of the spear and eviscerated its handle. She then bent down and couldn't shake the sexual thoughts of draining every bit of blood from his wounds dry. She then whispered in his ear in how they were going to be happy for the rest of eternity, that he was going to be a king to replace her traitorous sister.

Sibling rivalry in its demented form. She became lost in the blood oozing out of him. He acted fast and took the hand she held the blade in and sent it into her neck. He kicked her away as he got up and saw a few of the undead stood about; they grew aggressive in seeing their Queen hurt. He limped his way towards the stone bleachers to see if there was a way out of the arena. He suddenly heard screaming coming from Maeori as she pulled the blade out of her. He didn't have time to stay, but he found a dark opening that looked empty from a fairly far distance.

As soon as he got there, five undead souls opened their ghoulish eyes and were about to prey on his flesh. He turned back and she was there with seething red eyes and a cold expression.

"Where do you think you're off too, my king?" She asked with side crazy laugh.

One undead corpse jumped on top of him as he struggled to get free. He broke off the corpse's arm and kicked him to the other rotting flesh eaters that were huddled in a tight space. The Red Queen using her free hand, instantly clenched onto his neck; he performed a frontal flip and used his feet to knock her off balance. With the feeling of his knees giving out, he ran through the pain to retract back to the open.

Everything was moving quicker than time itself. Terrell ran out and looked around the wide arena. On a far end laid a long chain that seemed sturdy enough to climb on. Where it would take him he had no idea. Options were wearing thin with each passing second so he took a chance and ran to the chain. The red energy simulating behind him left a near burn on his back. He jumped onto the chain and climbed as fast as his newfound adrenaline would last.

As he climbed, thoughts plagued his mind about how he would die; then he discarded those thoughts and kept climbing. Maeori dashed her way to the arena's center stage, and a blood fueled tornado raged and started consuming the arena's foundation. A cave was shown with small stalactites sticking out on the sides. He leaped onto the edge and pulled himself up before the tornado took hold of him. Just his luck when the very concept seemed foreign to his situation, the environment shook relentlessly. He ran as far as his legs were able but the roof in front of his path caved in and was pummeled with heavy soil.

The demolished arena remained silent as blood veins coursed throughout Maeori's body. Filled with rage, she bellowed out a demonic scream as a form of failure she didn't convince him good enough. Within the aftermath of her own destruction, she made a personal promise to her enslaved husband.

"It's quite sad really." She said while speaking in two different tones at once. "I really did like his face; his meat succulent torso. No matter; I will find him soon enough. As for you sister, we are not through yet."

Back in the aquarium, handling the stones to find the two keys to unlock the door to the Church, Carlos managed to grab the barb of Morpheus. It took him a few tries; whenever he touched a hollow stone, a nasty shock would impact his hands. This would turn his vision dark for ten seconds as the stones and the jell-layered glass rearranged themselves in random order. He took out a rag from his pocket to cover the barb up; it was still active with electric shocks. The two esteemed explorers fared a little better in getting the tooth of Blodbad.

They would have done without a ghostly piranha jumping out, and trying to gnaw at their fingertips if they chose an empty fossil though. Once the tooth was retrieved the door behind the statue lit up with a virtual picture of the eel and piranha forming as their legends did. Cara walked with the others when she got on her knees and felt her head pounding out of nowhere. The gold aura from the stag surrounded her and vanished instantly; she threw up on the ground. Both ran back to help her up when she said the stag had a location on Terrell. He was under five pounds of heavy soil and was fading quickly she said.

"Can someone tell me what just happened?" Carlos asked.

"Long story." Damien replied. "I'm still having trouble believing it.

"She's a careful watcher of the temple. She won't harm us." Cara assured him.

"It's not me I'm worried about. Is Terrell a part of your group?" Carlos asked.

"Yeah." Damien replied. "We got separated ever since we entered the ancient gardens."

"Monica and Monroe are still missing, but I think she gave me a glimpse of a dark room with many hanging cells. I hope they're not there."

"Hanging cells?" Carlos asked.

"You know what it means?" Damien asked.

"Apart from Wesker, the Kurinthian Queens, there is a supernatural being that oversees these prison cells. He's simply called the Vessel. I was told he was the first to taste the Valhallan Elixir, and it changed him into a primal state. My guess is the Red Queen and Wesker made a cocoon and kept him inside so he wouldn't get out."

"So who is this Wesker fella?" Damien said curiously. "We were never told about him."

"It's Albert isn't it, from Umbrella? I read news stories about him and Dr. William Birkin dying in Raccoon City. I didn't think he'd survive." Cara pointed out.

The feel of an aftershock sent the ground in a trembling motion. They held onto each other until it passed after a minute.

"We'll have to continue this later." Carlos insisted as they made their way to the door. "I have a campsite in a desolate location. If your stag friend can help us there after we find your group it'll be much appreciated."

"That's it?" Cara said. "You'll help us just like that?"

"I don't know how or why you two are here. Let's just work together in finding the elixir and bury it for good. Bioterrorism doesn't need another crutch."

Damien and Cara inputted both keys to open the way to the Church. As soon as they entered through, the door closed behind them with a loud thump. Their surroundings appeared to be like any old Church setting; rows of benches on opposite ends, wide open space with levels above them to get a better view from where the Pastor would give his sermons. However the architecture seemed different, more mystical in a sense. Carlos had a bad vibe someone was watching them, but nothing came to life to try and attack them.

Cara wasn't feeling well after the stag left her body on short notice. She sat down for a moment to get her strength back. Both she and Damien haven't stopped for a breather since the piranha attack. Damien suddenly found a piece of rolled up paper on one of the benches. It was covered in leaves; it opened up to a name he wasn't familiar with. Alfheim: home of the guardian angels to the God Freyr. He gave it to Cara to see if she would be able to decipher anything on the scroll.

She was able to make out how the Light Elves were the most beautiful creatures to ever grace the Asgardian heavens. They had the ability to help or hinder a man's mind with either music or make them relive their past evil deeds. These angels were quite the charmers Carlos said, kind of like ex-girlfriends getting even with their cheating lovers for having a three-some with Brazilian Priestesses. Both looked at him like he was not all there. The room gradually went dark; all three got out their side arms at the ready.

One of the chandeliers that were hanging beforehand dropped on the ground instantly, leaving a jump scare. They kept their breathing to a minimum until the room became filled with blinding light. Carlos got a quick glimpse of someone jumping from one corner of the Church to another. They spread out and hid behind the benches as they kept their guard up. Something ran past Carlos and fired one bullet out of impulse. Damien then was hoisted up in the air and hit his back on one of the pillars.

"You alright, kid?" Carlos asked helping him up.

"Yeah, I'm freaking peachy…ah shit." Damien reacted to his back with gun still firm in hand.

Cara moved into the darkened corners to avoid any line of sight from their uninvited guest. Her condition was getting worse; not because of the stag leaving her body, but of malnutrition. She was starting to feel weak when she got grabbed by her neck. On instinct, she fired a bullet past her left ear to get away; it left a huge ringing noise and was soon grabbed again by the back of her shirt. The mysterious person urged Damien and Carlos not to fire a single bullet. A familiar face came out quietly. Damien couldn't believe his eyes when he saw him back from the dead. He dropped his gun, losing the feeling in his hands.

Time was passing slowly in the hanging prison. Monica tried her best not to look at Monroe and drew her attention to a quarrel happening in a cell four feet below her. Men were cursing in a language she didn't understand; it might've been Norwegian but she never cared to comprehend it. Fists were thrown; the situation as a whole was getting out of hand until the hook keeping their cell in place broke off. The men yelled into the darkness.

If that wasn't enough, they couldn't die without wearing their hatred. A mother beetle showed itself with light green designs on its wings. It lifted the cage with all eight of its legs; suddenly the hot headed males pleaded for mercy from a creature that had its sight set on killing them anyway. A deep, raspy voice thundered down on the prison cells, giving the beetle permission to deal with the prisoners. Monica woke Ethan up and wanted to know if this situation happened before.

It was not long until the beetle opened its stomach and dozens of its' young came jumping out. It was retching to say the least for Monica; Ethan didn't look the least bit phased. The little beetles took joy in taking chunks of human meat for their satisfaction. Soon after, the cage was dropped into the bowels of the temple floors as each small beetle crept back into their mother's stomach, and flew away to the top where a monstrosity of a cocoon resided in. The roof closed after that.

"Reckless fools." Ethan said. "They get taken against their will only to be silenced because they wouldn't shut up."

"Ugh, what a way to go." Monica replied looking at the little girl. "She doesn't scare easy does she?"

"It's worse for children to be in a place like this. If Kurinthian still had his mind..."

"Kurinthian; name's familiar. He was some architect that died under bizarre ends. I think his daughter went missing too, a long time ago."

"You schooled yourself on the history here. Smart. Say, mind if I ask why a fair lass from the south is doing in Norway?"

"Buddy, I don't open up on first date unless there's a backwoods man and blue pills involved. I doubt they're even looking for me; much less him." She said pointing to Monroe.

"We need to pass the time somehow. The end is coming for us anyway; better for you and Kelley here if you two survive it. I used to be a cellist back in Detroit, trying to make a better living for me and my wife. So, after a few gigs I was called by my agent to see if I wanted to play for a French orchestra in Paris. Before this, I've never been to anywhere foreign in my life. I said yes, packed up some clothes and took the wife to the country of romance or something. It may not be a big deal to some, but my wife was once a sheltered old lady who never had any excitement in her life since her junior prom. Which by your teenage standards, that was centuries before cars were invented?" He said before chuckling.

"I'm twenty." She said with both arms crossed.

"You're still a child. Youth is a precious thing. I may have learned that late in doing a young man's career but I never told myself that. After the concert I performed with the orchestra, Abby and I went to this small restaurant called _Le cygne de chocolat. _It was a place with nothing but desserts; crème brulee, chocolate strawberries, French vanilla. She and I pigged out until the owner had to kick us out; you _dessert manger les cochons _he said.

Then…the fun ended. Next day we went to the airport; the gates were locked down. There was this astute, stand up gentlemen speaking in both English and French about an epidemic brewing in Charente. The things…things he said about a viral outbreak. I didn't get a good look at his face; he spoke of outlandish things not even the French police stepped in to stop him. He spoke of a retreat center somewhere in the South Islands, saying he would fly us back to our destinations for free if we went with him.

We were tested for the Plaga parasite. I had no idea what it was except knowing there was this Illuminado cult who possessed villagers in Spain last year. Twenty of us became the odd people out; we were flown to Norway to one of their medical centers for vaccine. Who was this guy and why would he bother helping us I kept thinking? The rest is a blur to me, Monica. Couple years I spent in this crap shoot and I've no idea if my Abbey is still alive. I don't want to give up on her, but the Vessel, it does unspeakable things to those who get sent up top. I can't begin to tell you how many loud screams, how many gurgling sounds Kelley and I had to listen to. We've been very fortunate not to become witness to such volatility." He said before tearing up. "My Abbey…"

Monica took everything Ethan said to heart, and decided she was going to help him and Kelley. Whatever it was going to take she told him; she was not looking to die in another cage. Before opening up an idea to provoke the Vessel in bringing their cage up, she told him this process worked the same way like a regular prisoner. If he or she gets into a rumble with someone, they get thrown into a hole. She wanted to reenact a fight the prisoners below her did. Ethan thought she was crazy until he remembered what the beetles were made of. Their bloodstream from drinking the elixir had somehow turned acidic due to how rapidly their metabolism functioned; from head to toe basically would be filled with acid.

She was stronger than she appeared to be. If she was going to time it right, she would break off one of their feelers and melt the bars to get free. Ethan suggested killing off a beetle's young first. They were small enough to get stepped on. It would send the mother beetle so over the edge the Vessel would have no choice but to send them up to him. If they were lucky, the Vessel would have slipped into his alternate personality and grant them an audience for killing beetles effortlessly.

Few prisoners have in this regard; a face-to-face with a live cocoon would turn into a trial, rallying the undead from all corners of the temple to go to him and judge. Monica didn't think that would be possible but Ethan expressed how dangerous the undead are like. They move slowly like zombies, but they can multiply depending what strand of elixir they were given. Some can increase in muscle mass with each victim taken by their own hands, while others stay in the shadows and act as hunters. In essence, the elixir turns them into a docile army for the Vessel.

"Stand up." Monica told him. "Wake her and stand up."

Little Kelley woke up to what seemed to be a long winded slumber. Ethan kept nudging her to stand, saying a plan was in place for escape.

"This is Monica." He introduced her. "Don't be afraid; stand your ground."

"Relax. If I had killed either of you it would have been too messy, and I've had my fill of messy deaths where I come from. Now I normally don't fight old men unless they were eyeing my tits, but if fisticuffs send the insects out of their holes it's worth a shot."

"It's our best option. Cover your eyes, child." Ethan told Kelley.

"Can she speak or do you just talk for her?"

"I'm not mute." Kelley spoke meekly.

"Ah, she speaks." Monica said before bending down to her level. "Tell me Kel, you want to die here?"

"Monica!" Ethan shouted.

"I asked her a question." She fired back. "Honey, the real world is a circular bag full of crap. People are not going to kiss your wounds or sympathize with your hardships. You're young; you haven't even scratched the surface of what pain is like. You've only felt discomfort from this place. But listen to me, she said holding both Kelley's hands, when we escape I want you to stay with me. Last thing I want is human blood on my hands."

Ethan got behind her and placed her in a chokehold. As she was about to elbow his left side, he grabbed it and pushed her away and kicked her face first against the cell bars. She spat out some blood before facing him.

"Didn't think you had it in ya, old man." Monica smiled.

"The smell of dank rock and shit can clog a mind." He replied.

"You should've seen the boiler room at the female prison I stayed at. C'mon." She said before fighting an agile old man.

The mysterious shooter Damien, Cara, and Carlos confronted revealed himself, tossing her like a used dish towel in front of him. With her physical condition getting weaker, she didn't feel like dying. She got Damien's dropped gun while Carlos helped her up. He looked different since Venezuela; Samuel Travers had gotten a whole new makeover. It was like his body was part human, part demon-like. His body was built like a Spartan ready for war, eyes as pale orange as they come. However, it was the shadow he was in that showed his other side. When he stepped into the light he appeared as if the temple had never phased him in the least. Strange given all that Damien and the others had gone through, Travers barely had gotten a scratch. His voice changed a bit as well; it felt like he was in pain but at the same time pleased about it.

"Put the gun down, merc. I come in peace." Travers requested.

"Nah, my finger's itching like a bitch today. I assume Wesker gave you that facelift; mighty generous giving it to an outsider."

"The man greatly believes that every human being is of equal measure. I come with glad tidings my friends." He said before turning his attention to Damien. "Walsh, so you reconsidered in coming here anyway. Oh don't be naïve; the one month all six of us had shared you were talking to the others behind my back, namely Mr. Amaro. How is he?"

"He's…still alive." Damien said in surprise. "How did you? You…at the base, when you told us to get out of there before those aircraft took it down. How did you live?"

"Wait, you two know this guy?" Carlos asked.

"I have a friendly face."

"Agree to disagree, "friend." Carlos said sarcastically. "I thought Albert Wesker went missing after the incident on Rockfort Island. There was an anti-bioterrorist organization, finding Intel on Ozwell E. Spencer; BSAA or something. You ask me, he's a little out of his game to be all the way out here."

"Not that it's any of your concern, merc. The Wesker you know has another; twelve in fact, until Spencer's experiments went wrong. Those poor children; Albert and Alex Wesker are all that's left of who still retain the Progenitor Virus. Their blood is pure, but Alex felt it wasn't enough."

"He's stalling." Cara said with dazed eyes. "You know he wants to trap us in here."

"Au contraire my Spanish dove. I am here merely to inform. The light show I gave earlier was a demonstration of the kind of speed I have. So, you want your trigger fingers scratched off, or are you going to be civil?"

All three relieved the tension in the room and sat down on the church benches as Cara sat next to Damien to compose herself. Carlos on the other hand put his rifle behind his back and kept his right hand firmly on his knife. He told Travers to be out with it; the Kurinthian Temple was a mess he said. Not only that the lower levels were submerged. He asked them if it was still storming outside, and had them take a silent listen. Damien still heard rain drops hitting the temple's foundation. It was a sign of the Architects' insurrection for the intruders inside the temple.

Alex Wesker is at heart, a businessman with lots of coins and Benjamin dollars to his name. However, he wasn't the type to squander his family's inheritance on stylish cars and penthouses, let alone giving a cent to charity. He inherited half his funds to pursue a new business venture, one he has been working behind the scenes for some time. It was over ambitious. Not even when he was Spencer's prisoner did he believe achieving the lifespan of God would be possible.

Hell, at times he would call the bullshit against Spencer's theory, saying it was just a selfish crutch to get more money, and rekindle his tarnished reputation after the Umbrella Corporation's downfall...for a time. Over time, Alex had bear witnessed to a series of tests on the Progenitor Virus. That was where his secret business started to form. He worked alongside Ozwell, perfect the virus to its' maximum potential. When Spencer became clouded by excitement and achievement, Alex would steal the plans from right under his nose. Despite Spencer being a father figure to the thirteen Wesker children, he was tougher on Alex than he was with Albert.

He saw Albert had a bright future ahead of him to take Umbrella to new heights, while he saw Alex as a kid putting his vast potential on hold, never rushing into things. After "stealing" the Progenitor research, he fled the states at his father's behest to the South Islands to continue to find the key to a secret behind Progenitor. He was given a hundred test subjects to work on while covertly setting them free and drop off the grid. After the fall of Umbrella, its resources and viral creations spread all over the world; everyone wanted to be the CEO of an Umbrella somewhere. After a year sparing innocent lives by setting them free, he felt his father was chomping at the bit to hear from his progress. Only one phone call was made before severing ties for good.

_"You will be pleased, father. I am on the verge of a breakthrough to achieving what false gods had possessed eons ago: immortality. You should rest; your solution will arrive at your doorstep soon..."_

It turned out it wasn't going to be soon enough. In Alex's right, he didn't care. Official reports stated thousands of test subjects went missing. His father's guards traveled to the facility in the South Islands to find no progress had been made; no sweat and toil to show the fruits of Spencer's labors thriving. Suffice it to say, explosives were concealed in various parts of the facility and it blew up in a matter of minutes to wipe all traces of Progenitor research. As a young man, he was very good at covering his tracks. He then found himself reading a research file, indicating a pure viral source in Norway.

Umbrella had wanted to seize the temple's contents and mass produce the elixir to make the perfect bio organic weapon. Ozwell became enticed by the idea. Though he was too proud in being a rich scientist to receive help from foreign soil, even if it was ripe for the taking. By this time he had already established a small team for Norway after hearing about the death of Archer Kurinthian being killed in his own home.

"Why are you telling us all this?" Cara asked.

"Believe it or not, Alex is not the man he once was. Before Norway, he was a brilliant businessman, a crafty scientist; a reject son in his "father's" eyes. He took none of that shit to heart though. He vowed to better himself and did what he could to perfect the Progenitor Virus. In some cases he had, but this environment changes you. I know I did a shitty job in preparing you guys for the dangers you've encountered here."

"We made do." Damien said.

"So where's this going? Are you going to try to kill us or bore us to death on facts we already know?" Carlos asked.

"A storm is still brewing outside. I suggest staying away from the gardens and the Zafrina library. Alex is not going to like what the Red Queen did; he's been ripping his hair out with all the things both Queens have been doing in this place."

"You know where the White Queen is now?" Carlos demanded.

"No clue. I just guard the vault to the elixir. Venezia has been secretly plotting with the Vessel to overthrow Wesker and Maeori. Personally, as long as she keeps on the move in the temple, she'll succeed."

"What's the Vessel?" Damien asked.

"I've said too much." Travers replied before a loud boom went off below them. "If you three try to follow me to the vault, I won't be merciful then. I've made my choice to save my life; wouldn't you do the same?" He said before moving rapidly out of the Church.

The room continued shaking beneath their feet, with Carlos thinking it wasn't an earthquake. The door to the aquarium re-opened and they ran back to see if Blodbad and Morpheus came out of hiding. By the time they saw the tanks the glass broke with old bones and decayed body parts scattered all over the ground. Suddenly, Cara noticed the difference behind the shattering of the two tanks, saying Blodbad's tank was to make sure it was never in use while the other tank looked like it could be repaired. Muffled hums went hand in hand with the ground shaking.

"There's nothing for us here. Let's keep moving!" Carlos told them.

They ran up the stairs out of the Church area and came across another open bridge high up from the ground. The rain engulfed the lower half of the temple as if it was meant to be built on top of water. It didn't get any better with the random lightning strikes and blinding rain that took hold of everyone who made their way across the bridge. One lightning struck the middle of the bridge, separating Damien from the others. Damien was taken by how loud the lightning was and how it left a gap huge enough to prevent them from jumping to the other side.

From what he was able to see, Carlos seemed like he was screaming something to him. Another lightning strike hit a few inches from where Damien was standing. He had no choice but to go on without them. He was scared with water and mucus dripping out of his face and nose. He looked to his right down below and noticed something swimming in the aggressive sea; it looked eel-like. He then ran to the other side with another lightning strike nearly leaving him breathless with temple residue on his body. The rain condensed itself so Carlos couldn't see the other side.

"Kid's got a pair on him."He told Cara holding onto her. "Here's hoping he stays safe."

"We have to get back inside." She replied before feeling life in her again.

"Cara?"

The golden stag returned to her with news concerning Terrell. Once again, she spoke through Cara.

"_I have found another survivor. He remains unconscious in the aftermath of the Blood Queen's arena."_

"Arena, Carlos asked himself, is there a shortcut to get us there?"

"_Remain still, human." _She said as she surrounded both of them in golden light.

In a blink of an eye, he was rendered motionless and disappeared before more lightning hit the bridge. As for Damien, he struggled to get up with a migraine taking its toll on his senses. The blinding rain kept his vision clouded, but behind him laid an opening for more shelter. He limped inside in hopes of finding a warm place to dry off.

18


	6. Part V: The Execution

Temple of Kurinthian

Part V: The Execution

The stakes escalated when the mother beetles in the hanging prison cells took notice of Monica and Ethan's rumble. Other prisoners rioted; over 235 of them banged against the bars, shouted profanities to provoke the flying abominations to come out of hiding. As they beat against each other, Monica made a personal observation, saying Ethan had a pair of cinderblocks for fists. It was a rare thing to see an old timer still having hardened skin after what has happened to him. Little Kelley had tears running down her face, but she barely made a peep. Not that it mattered with all the screaming going on.

They went against each other by hand locking and pushing one another to see who still had the most strength. Ethan wanted to know if her plan was working yet; she kicked his chest and he landed hard on his ass on the other side of the square shaped cell. Kelley went over to see if he was okay, and out of nowhere pulled one of the cell bars off the hinges with a sharp tip on the broken end. Monica thought it was the perfect tool for the mother beetle, considering the next part of her plan was pure madness. She walked over to ask for the cell bar. Kelley became defensive all of a sudden.

"Stay away!" She shouted pointing the sharp end at Monica. "I'll stick you with this; I swear!"

"Calm down! This is the only way for us to get free." She tried assuring Kelley. "I pulled back on some hits. He'll be alright."

"She's right, honey." Ethan told her. "You better be right about this, Monica."

"Don't say "thanks" just yet." She told herself when she heard buzzing. "Give me the bar!"

Kelley gave it to her and kept it close by when the mother beetles came out of their holes. A dozen of them swarmed around, invaded the rioting cells by pouring their acidic young onto the prisoners to eat them alive. She knew she was going to have one shot in getting out of there. Suddenly, the roof began to open once more, revealing a clumpy, pyramid shaped structure that was portrayed as the Vessel. Those who fought back broke their cell bars and took them up top.

One mother beetle looked at Monica's cell and flew ferociously towards it, mounting against its rusty bars. The cell was coming unhinged. Just as its belly opened, she punctured it with the sharp end and thousands of molecular bacteria entered the beetle's blood stream, killing off the young yet unable to have their first meal in the outside world. Its' stomach clotted, but was strong enough to break open the bars. One of its feelers went to grab her; out of instinct she punctured one of the eyes and thrust all the way through its socket. The mother beetle screamed in pain; Monica climbed on its back and urged Ethan and Kelley to do the same. Ethan mounted Kelley first with him struggling to get on after.

While the others were occupied with the rowdy prisoners, Monica steered the beetle via rusty bar upward, and surprising enough it flew to the top. She told them to hang on with Kelley screaming like she was out of her bloody mind. The top place where it showed the Vessel overseeing the prison contained a worshipping complex with all seven Norse Architects sculpted in amber and silver statues, praying to the Vessel. Each statue filled a corner of the complex, leaving a ritualistic aura as if the prison below was meant to be purgatory instead of hell for lost souls to be feasted on and watched in fear. Monica made a rough landing on the ground with Norse designs; the mother beetle expanded, looking like it was about to explode. All three made a quick getaway before that happened; it sure left a nasty mess. Ethan stood in awe in what just happened.

"My god." He said feeling his heart skipped a beat. "Feels like a lifetime since I've smelled fresh air."

"Still smells though." Kelley replied standing next to him.

"Air's not as foul." He said before thanking Monica. "Young lady, we can't thank you enough. I don't know how you pulled it off, but you saved our lives."

"You got stones, Ethan." She praised. "I didn't slam you too hard did I?"

"Nonsense, he grinned, you barely touched me. I may have been a cellist in my day, but I stayed in shape. Surprisingly, I didn't lose my edge."

The floor was a shield to keep Monica and the others from falling back into the abyss where hundreds of prisoners were losing their lives left and right. She placed her ear on the ground and shivers went down her spine, feeling like she could've saved them as well if she knew how to maneuver the beetle better, but the most important thing for her was that she was still breathing acid free. They were standing in the presence of the Vessel; a fiery red infrastructure with a human shaped figure in the center and veins surrounding it. Ethan saw a distinct design with a triangle engraved into the ground. It had a face of one of the architects with a Danish inscription.

He was part Danish/American and was able to figure out what it was trying to say. The same design occurred to the other six statues. The one they stumbled in particular was the one who set up the skeleton schematic for the temple after Ragnarok; Cornelius Harroth. He claimed himself to be a descendant of the Master Builder who was tasked to build the Asgard Wall after the Vanir tore it down. His mind became enriched with ideas of architecture and avaceret (sophisticated) design. In his free days though, he was a good fisherman of dangerous catchings.

By the time the oceans cleared and washed away the carnage of battle, six years from the aftermath Cornelius visited a settlement camp with survivors. His luck brought him to six other men and women who had studied Norse culture and retained the events that happened during the Vanir attacks, the Viking uprisings, Asgard going to war in Jotunheim, Jormugandr's emergence upon the world, all leading to an evening sit-down that was going to change the course of Norwegian, Danish, and other cultures who played a part in the last testament of the Gods. After reading the inscription, two letters highlighted themselves; **h** and **n**. Monica kept watch on her surroundings to make sure no other beetles came out of the shadows. Ethan told them about the letters and kept them in mind as he translated the others.

They moved on to the next statue while still feeling cautious about the Vessel watching them. The Architect was a woman named Daphomir Stiifallsi; she was responsible for the geography of where the temple was going to be built. She specialized in protection spells to keep the negative elements away from the temple's confines. Intruders from afar mostly consisted of ticked off bastards and thieves who wanted the treasure the other Architects recovered. If they can sing the words to open the doors, they would be allowed entrance, but caution was of highest importance. The letters **c**, **u**, and **I** highlighted boldly. By the time the third statue was deciphered it was from Madnar Tizen; collector of Norse weapons of Asgard, Loki, the Bifrost, Odin, Thor. The letters **k** and **e** revealed themselves.

"Any luck how to get out of here?" Monica asked Ethan.

"So far I've been getting highlighted letters from the three Architects I examined. We won't know until I read the other four.

"If you can hurry along that'd be great." She suggested to him. "You know, I'm not one to moan after a good rumble, but you could've pulled back on those punches down there."

"Oh please. A headache's better than getting eaten alive by those things." He said as they walked to the next Architect. "A prison fighter like your-self knows a thing or two about pain."

She stopped him and wanted to know his intent on saying what he just said.

"The fuck you say to me?" She whispered angrily to him. "So that means I'm a useless cunt that gets hobby horsed in jail when a fat bitch wants to get off?"

"What, he asked out of surprise, no. I didn't mean it like that."

"Then how'd you mean it?" She asked as he was trying to wrap his head. "C'mon man, explain."

"You-you're just hearing it wrong, Monica. What I meant to say was you know how to survive. Whether you were in jail or not, in this place there's no room for fear. Kelley and I wouldn't have been able to get the beetle's attention the way you did."

"I'm sorry." She said rubbing her head. "I went off a bit there."

"You've been through a lot. I can't speak for the prisoners below us; hope they made peace somehow."

Kelley saw something moving towards where they were. She ran to Monica and told her they needed to hide, running away soon after to hide behind one of the statues. Sounds of footsteps and pissed off creatures alarmed both of them to follow. Monica took out the cell bar from the beetle's eyes and kept breathing to a minimal to prevent attention being brought. Ethan made a quick glimpse at who was there; it was undead alright.

They moved as such, but they had a sense of self-awareness that something very odd just took place within the Vessel's presence. They spoke to each other in vile grunts and slurred words as they bumped past each other going in different directions. A rain drop suddenly hit Kelley's shoulder; she looked up and didn't see anything. Sure enough, another rain drop fell on top of Monica and made the assumption it was still raining outside. It would have been the fourth day in a row a rainstorm was brewing. For the time being, they lied in wait for the undead to walk away so Ethan can continue the Danish inscriptions.

Kurinthian's Temple had become a shell of its' former self. It went from being a monument of great tribute to fallen Gods and proud moments of Norse pride, to a half wrecked, six mile tomb that has three and a half miles of rain water consuming everything it touched. As for the once great arena Maeori and Terrell took part in, its' aftermath became a cesspit that was filling up to the stalactite caves. Luckily, both Cara and Carlos landed it on a causeway that circled around the arena for insect like creatures to watch bloody matches. Terrell was barely clinging on to life on the other side of a cave filled with heavy soil. Both wasted no time taking in what was going on around them, but Carlos was getting nervous about their chances in escaping the temple. The soil evaporated when her aura touched it, showing Terrell in cruel shape.

"_He yet lives." _She said looking internally. _"His mind is not his own though; a terrible loss has plagued his ability to think logically. We must be cautious in where we take him next."_

"I have a camp set further out west. It's like a second Citadel. Wesker's undead can't climb as far as I know."

"_Hindnoir: a replicated forest that simulates relaxation after a warrior's hard day of battle. Hold on tight once more."_

They disappeared from the arena's aftermath, and about five seconds later both end up in a custom made, yet luscious forest of Hindnoir. It was a place filled with colors of dark blue; the air was steady and had a place of solitude in the trees. They carried Terrell through the forest and onto his campsite. It has been almost a week since Carlos arrived at the temple; he said he found Hindnoir on sheer luck.

There _were_ hostiles back then he said, invading the area. The undead were crawling out of two aqueducts coming from the ceiling above the trees. He said he couldn't believe undead would survive a fall of seven feet from the ground. He had climbed up to the top of both aqueducts with satchel charges to make sure no more had broken through. It became quiet ever since. She looked at Terrell's body to see what kind of damage he was enduring physically; his pulse was weak.

She was surprised he had a resolve stronger than anyone who had passed through the temple walls before. Carlos made the distinction about one of his rib cages being completely shot. He didn't have the means to repair it properly, and the stag didn't have any healing powers to assist. The only thing he was able to conjure was dress the broken ribs and treat the wounds with alcohol and bandages. He had his equipment covered; his employer sent over some medical and food supplies to keep him going in his mission. Terrell was then placed on a towel covering the ground and was going to take care of his injuries.

"You should head back." He suggested. "Find Damien and anyone else from your group. I got it from here."

"_As you wish. __Two of the three group members are still alive to my knowledge. I will return with whoever I find."_

She disappeared once more. As Carlos was setting up the supplies he talked to himself about thinking he saw everything that was both wrong and odd about the world. He was only scratching the surface on what was freaky. In the shambles of a once great temple lied the vault leading to the Vallhallan Elixir. The Maestro meditated in front of its' well; it's gooey, burgundy blood substance that was supposed to take a human being who has given all of himself to the harsh torture that was required for the elixir to flow through the body.

It was crawling with undead and battered down prisoners who walked helplessly in protection of the elixir. However, the Maestro wasn't thinking about immortality, or the events that was occurring throughout the temple. In his meditation, he thought back to when he was a teenager, when he and his adopted brother Albert Wesker were being lectured on how far they have come in adapting to the early stages of the Progenitor Virus. This lecture was conducted by Ozwell E. Spencer himself. He talked about putting the Ashford family to shame after shunning him out of the Umbrella Corporation.

It was still on the rise in being a pharmaceutical entity, but the co-founders were already bickering amongst themselves about who should run the joint division facilities so they can expand their empire. It was a huge honor in his eyes, to have not one, but two survivors from Project W: a blacklisted project that was to take in kids of higher standing and make them into perfect human beings; gods in every sense of the word. Spencer had this clichéd view about the world, about how humanity was unable to evolve on its own. War and famine spread like wildfire, no common ground to be met with different backgrounds and philosophies. Umbrella was all about giving people a future; an absolute future, one that gives mankind that little push to reach the final stage of evolution.

In his eyes, Alex and Albert were the keys in giving him hope for bringing his ambition to light. Another vision brought him to a later time in his life. A few weeks after he decided to steal Spencer's Progenitor research and escape his estate, he idly stood by in silence in front of the man he once called "father"; once a man with a mind unlike any with sheer brilliance, slowly deteriorated into madness and having a god complex. "I've almost achieved it" he kept saying in his underground lab. It became just as much a tomb as he was; insane yet empty.

Alex took pity on Spencer because he still had determination keeping him going when age kept slowing him down. Before this change, he and a team of genetic scientists worked tirelessly around the clock day after day to perfect the Progenitor Virus. Month after month, dead end after dead end, the team split apart, saying it was impossible at this point. Umbrella was gone; black market dealers and foreign leaders took everything Spencer and James Marcus worked for and made it their own. It sickened Spencer to no end. When the team left all that remained was him, his butler Patrick, and Alex. He went into his lab one evening to fill him in on a discovery from a foreign resource.

"_Father, do you have a moment?" _Alex asked with research papers in his hand.

"_Not now, boy! In my old age there's no such thing as "moments." Results matter in the end; a trait Albert long cherished as I. I thought you had forgotten me." _Spencer said mixing chemicals.

"_I...think I have a solution to the virus. Obviously we have the resources we need, but one ingredient is missing."_

"_Did I shun you out of my lab? What is this missing ingredient?"_

"_Blood, _Alex spoke plainly, _blood taken from Norse Gods and warriors from over 1,000,000 battlefields. It's being preserved in a temple west of Norway."_

"_Ha! Toying with my mind about blood and Norse steel." _Spencer replied turning around and facing him. _"You have cost me over 14,000 test subjects for the Progenitor Virus. All I asked was a gateway to immortality, and you show up with tall yarns and excuses." _

"_It's true. Each soul had faulty DNA. Take a look."_ He said giving papers to Spencer.

Spencer perused through the research, talking about Ragnarok and the seven Norse Architects who built the temple as a tribute to the fallen. Alex explained the blood as a blood altered pathogen; once it enters the body it re-animates the blood cells, takes over the cerebral cortex as it erases all ties to a normal human life, or in Spencer's words, peons. However, back then in order for it to work, a human being must give all of himself to the blood. He had to be beaten into a bleeding prune with no will to fight back his attackers. When he is on his fading pulse, that would be the sign to throw him into the vat of elixir and the rest would speak for itself. Spencer looked at the research one last time, and looked at Alex soon after. By offering him a plain, emotionless stare, he tore up his research to pieces and tossed them at his feet.

"_Do you think me a helpless fool my child? This is nothing more than a spook story. I have seen enough horrors to make the distinction. What we've created was real from the viruses that came before, all made by man's inspired scientific minds. What have you ever done for me besides watch so much and assist so little? You are still a boy on a fool's errand. Wasted potential I tell you. Albert would understand my need for this to work; he would bring the absolute solution to this exhausting endeavor."_

"_I'd say go take a nap before you turn in an early grave, but since God doesn't sleep..." _Alex said before interrupted.

"_Neither should I. That is the smartest thing you have said in your irrelevant existence. If that is all, I need peace."_

At the time, he felt an immense sorrow for Spencer. Not for the man himself, but for what he had become. For a time, he considered both him and Albert as equals, to be the next generation to carry on the Umbrella legacy. However, any love he had left for his adoptive father became extinct when Alex finally severed ties with him.

"_You wish now that our fates had been exchanged? I would be the one to die in that mansion by the tyrant and Albert living to bring your dreams to life."_

"_Yes." H_e spoke softly. _"I wish that. He may have been killed by that blasted monstrosity, but his cunning mind brought him back to life. He was the son I have always wanted."_

Alex held back his voice from choking, feeing like a failed son. He said his last words before departing from his estate for good…or so Spencer was led to believe.

"_Since you're so infatuated with Albert, I will do what I can to make my own way. If someday I do perfect "Progenitor" when you've, think better of me."_

Spencer gave a disregarding "hmph" as Alex left the lab. Did he feel regret pushing his only chance at immortality away from his presence? Some decisions mattered little when they were conceived in a recollection of a past confrontation. A lot of preparations were being made out of Alex's pocket for his journey to Norway; to him the temple was a spectacle of Norse history. He would be able to learn something that dwelled outside of corporate business and viral engineering. One last flashback took him to the day he stole the research and fled Spencer's estate to be never seen again. He arranged for his father to be put in a sleeping state after having his evening tea, and who better to create a harmless scheme other than their own butler, Patrick.

He has been in service to the Spencers for over fifty years, and has been able to follow orders without question, even if they're called into one back then. Patrick knocked on Alex's bedroom door, supposedly once again since he too felt it was deja vu. As he entered his room became barren. A suitcase was on his bed full of clothes with another bag full of articles and temple data. He told Alex that his father was sound asleep in his lab, and should be out for the next twenty-four hours without any mental or physical strains on his part. Alex praised him on a job well done.

"_Sir, I don't fully understand the nature of your departure yet I wish you well, but please." _Patrick stressed to him. _"Reconsider. Your father loves you; he's just old. He forgets himself sometimes."_

"_You weren't there, Patrick." _Alex replied gathering his things. _"My "father" is not the brilliant man he once was. The years have betrayed him. After Umbrella went down in the stock exchange he completely lost himself. Do I hate the man? Not entirely; I just hate for what he has become: angry, driven to madness about walking among the gods. He turned me away, saying I wasn't a good enough son to stand with him. I tried Patrick. I know within myself I have the potential to do great things. Yet my destiny lies in another place."_

_"Some part of me understands your intentions. Another part begs my presence to remain at your father's side." _

_"Where will you go when his time is up?"_

_"I do not know. All I know is this house can divide your soul until your heart is but a dark shell. It is not my place to ask about the test subjects you were given..." _

_"Some are still alive, waiting for me. I let the others go. In spite in what you think of my father, he would've executed them if their DNA wasn't good enough. I'll never understand how my brother can be as dark as he is."_

He bid Patrick a fond farewell before heading downstairs into Spencer's office. Though he had no hatred for his father, he did agree on one of the aspects he preached about. Life wasn't evolving at all; war and famine were still present, and different cultures could never find common ground, not to mention viral outbreaks still occurred after Umbrella's downfall. He took it on both faith and curiosity to take the Progenitor research and find his own way to perfect it. Not as a virus, but as a key for mankind to unlock their hidden potential. The rest of his life after became a distant blur, followed by disturbing images of how the elixir has changed him physically.

Waking up from his meditation in human form, he gave a deep inhale and exhale at the same time. The elixir in him had performed its rightful purpose, yet his past kept coming back to when he lived as a rejected son of a crackpot tyrant. He was still trying to figure how to undo a person's past so that a human can be reborn. Alex stood up to see the elixir as clear and serene as it was to the eye. Being frustrated about his queens; his White Queen was on the pursuit still, manipulating any undead she could get her sharp nails into to follow her. However he was mostly concerned about Maeori.

What happened in the Arena began a chain reaction that led rain water to fill up the area and into other parts of the temple. Both of his loyal Kranner-Wolves were dead, his prison cells went erratic with the Vessel having little control to contain it. Everything literally was falling around him, but he knew the temple wasn't a set trip. This was like Ragnarok all over again he told himself. Instead of the world being engulfed in water, if he wasn't careful the temple would submit to the anguish Maeori had started. He also had intruders to contend with still; in his eyes they were becoming more resourceful each day as they came across new challenges. Travers entered the vault to confirm knowledge he already knew.

"Mester, Travers addressed him, Jeg har gjort mine runder. Alle de nedre nivåene som inneholder biblioteket, hagene, Asgard museumkapittel, nedsenket all jeg er redd.

(Maestro, I've done my rounds. All the lower levels containing the library, the gardens, the Asgard museum section, all submerged I'm afriad.)

"Hvordan om intruders; har du krysset stier med dem ennå?" Alex asked.

(How about the intruders; have you crossed paths with them yet?)

Travers held his tongue to find the answer. He knew Alex would sense lies in his words and acknowledged he wouldn't get mad if he had let the intruders go in the Church, that they can reach safety instead of taking them down when they were tired of chasing the White Queen for ten miles straight. Travers was stumped from his educated guess; it was dead on and he didn't know how to respond. The elixir inside Travers made him agile with a set goal in protecting the vault. His sense of surroundings on the other hand were still not as attuned as he led Alex to believe. Right then, Travers was granted a promotion.

"Det forekommer til meg at jeg har vært uforsiktig av dette historiske monumentet. Jeg vet at jeg har ikke vært rundt unntatt for arenaens lille vågestykket. Jeg burde ha beholdt et tettere bånd på Maeori. Mine dronninger har sviktet, Samuel. Det er bare en logisk måte å løse dette."

(It occurs to me that I have been careless of this historic monument. I know I haven't been around save for the arena's little venture. I should've kept a tighter leash on Maeori. My queens have failed me, Samuel. There is only one logical way to solve this.)

"En offentlig utførelse? Travers asked. "Det synes som en dårlig tid; hvis du har ikke noe imot mitt ordspråk slik."

(A public execution; it seems like a bad time. If you don't mind my saying so.)

"Samuel, Alex said putting both hands on his shoulders, hvordan ville du like bli fremmet?"

(Samuel, how would you like a promotion?)

Alex felt like doing some hunting in parts of the temple that weren't flooded. Venezia and Maeori were going to be their prey; Travers had no love for neither of them so it was going to be no problem. He was promoted to lieutenant in rallying the undead horde from every corner to hunt down and kill the intruders that still breathed in his presence. For now, he was tasked to track down Maeori. Travers was apprehensive of such a task, thought he would fare better in catching Venezia for her treasonous slights against Alex and the elixir.

However, Alex insisted he should track her down and bring her before the Vessel, and that he was going to do the same. Travers was then told he should send a group of undead with him so he can capture her properly. The vault opened with Alex leaving with confidence while Travers asked who was going to watch the elixir. He whistled for someone to come to him; a seven foot beast came walking with a Frankenstein presence about him. He walked like a man with a massive hanging mace in hand, wearing a black straight jacket. His face deformed with one eye showing, teeth of sharp magnitude that resembled a psychotic smile to some.

"Jeg har alltid villet en av disse." Alex said in awe of the beast.

(I've always wanted one of these.)

"Hva helvetet er denne tingen," Travers asked in amazement?

(What the hell is this thing?)

Undead went from a few bystanders searching around the Vessel to a dozen who just walked in, making things difficult for Monica in what she was about to do. Ethan told her that these undead in particular have an acute sense of hearing; so much as a spec of rock falls to the ground they all go into hunter mode. Suddenly, two of them limped away from the rest of the group and never turned back. Two less to worry about she said, and a weapon barely having any value wasn't going to be enough to kill them. That was when Kelley crawled up to Monica and told her they wouldn't go down with head shots or sharp objects.

It would slow them down but that was about it. Monica wanted to know how they knew so much about how these undead in particular operate. They were taken from unmarked graves throughout Norway; they moved and respond the way a standard zombie does, but with the elixir surging through their veins it makes them more hostile, almost hunter-like. Monica was beginning to like where this was going. Ethan warned her that if one managed to grab her, her life would be over. They're hard to kill; they tend to keep to themselves in the shadows, waiting, building up the anticipation for a fresh kill. If it were not for Alex keeping them under control, it would be a closed slaughter without end. Different color designs distinct their personalities from each other, guessing from the elixir's diverse qualities Ethan thought.

"Y'know, for someone who's been in the shitter for the past two years, you seem to know what the hell's going on up here." Monica whispered.

"I listen." Ethan replied. "Kelley picks up on things other prisoners say. It pays to know your enemy."

"For a cellist you don't seem shaken up." Monica said looking through the statue.

"The Vessel speaks to us sometimes." He said.

All these facts she didn't pick up while sitting in a cell came at her like baseball bat swings. But she didn't have time to dwell on them; the remaining four Architect statues were their best bet in decoding the letters and finding out what they were up against. She had an idea to distract them. Since there were over four round walkways circling up to the top of the lair, she was going to lure them so Ethan would have an open window to decipher the rest of the Danish inscriptions. At that moment, with sharp cell bar in hand and not many other options, she popped out and was about to stick it in one of their heads.

Suddenly, the target she chose grabbed her and snarled ferociously. She dropped the cell bar into her free hand and stuck it inside the zombie's ear. It let out a loud screech that pushed her to pull it out, and made a run for it up the first walkway. Ethan and Kelley saw the small horde with their attention on Monica; they moved away from the statue of Kurza Trinison and focused on what she was about. Kurza was an animal breeder for species of wolves, and was known for the discovery of the lost descendants of the wolf, Fenrir.

Before Raganrok, the Kranner-Wolves had a population of only fifty; a majority of their kind became extinct after the world submerged. They stood on all fours with conviction and the blood of Fenrir flowing through them. Only twenty remained, but only two were chosen to guard the temple's walls. Kranners were able to live for extended periods of time for as long as Fenrir's birthplace remained intact. The letter that came up was **r**.

Monica was still faring well against the undead. They weren't as fast with all the debris that temporarily blocked them from pursuit. Yutgan Solem was the one who constructed the various traps and diversions throughout the temple. He was also responsible for constructing the very room the Vessel was kept in. He was a Danish entrepreneur who took Loki's reputation as "the Trickster" a bit too literally, but was dangerous by comparison. **R** and **n** were committed to Ethan's memory.

She screamed to him to get a move on for the rest of the jumbled letters. She was getting tired avoiding dozens of undead trying to shred the skin off her bones. She had the advantage in staying above the rock debris so they wouldn't jump up; that's what she thought anyway. In the confusion of things, Kelley saw a clear view of some sort of lever that was supposed to raise the prison cells down below. She couldn't speak for those who lost their lives from the mother beetles, but it was a vague idea to raise the cells and have the undead feast on whatever was left.

"Out of the question!" Ethan scolded as they moved to the next statue. "Monica can handle herself."

"She needs our help!" She pleaded with him. "We should return the favor."

"You're not going out there where those monsters can attack you. I'm responsible for you." He said stopping at Camille Alamus. "God, if I solve this, I hope the Vessel will make them back off."

Kelley looked at him as he was translating the inscription for the Architect, Camille, while seeing how Monica was buying them time. Throwing rocks at them caused a few to tumble down the winding stairway, allowing her some breathing room to make it to the top level. As she got to the fourth level, she found a new weapon she was able to use against them. It was a sledgehammer of sorts, something the Vikings would use to build. It was better than a decaying cell bar she thought.

They drew closer to her; she took the cell bar and drove it into one of their foreheads while lifting the body, and tossing it all the way down to the bottom, hoping the fall would kill them finally. With hammer in grasp, she wacked two of them, making their faces more deformed than before. One got sent flying out until it regained momentum by hanging on one of the ledges.

Kelley became startled when the body of an undead dropped. It snarled a great deal but it didn't get back up. Camille Alamus was the first Vessel to partake in safeguarding the elixir. It seemed appropriate because she led the Year One journey around the globe, collecting blood remnants from over 1,000,000 Norse conflicts. Over thirty vials of Asgardian blood, wolf blood, warrior blood, even broken scales of the mighty Jormungandr were collected in vials, and brought back to the construction of the temple over the course of 23 months. Camille also made the cocoon safeguarding the first traces of elixir; if for any case the vault was compromised that is. The letters **t** and **h** were shown; only one statue left Ethan said in relief.

Monica was growing restless by slamming the same zombie down over and over. They just wouldn't die. Kelley was in between a rock and a hard place with a choice to make: pull the lever and pray it will lure the undead to whatever comes up, or make a last stand against the fallen zombie as it was slowly getting up with sights set on a young kill. They went to the last Architect named Paratis Zanato, with the nerves clutching tightly on Ethan's shoulders. The zombie sat up and began crawling towards them; Monica got the sledgehammer knocked out of her hand and the life was being choked out of her. Kelley had no choice but to make a run for the lever.

"Kelley!" Ethan shouted before looking away. Ah, damn it!"

She managed to pull the lever with whatever strength that was left inside her. She would have nearly broken her right arm if she hadn't paced herself. Three circles on the floor depicting Norwegian designs opened. Two chains from each hole shot up and hit the ceiling, slowly raising the prison cells. Already did the undead got a whiff of tainted human flesh and began turning their attention at the ground floor.

Kelley ran back to Ethan, saying it was working. He had to work faster. Paratis was the keeper of the trophy room, or Helligdom av tapte rikdommerer (Sanctum of lost riches). He walked alongside Camille, collecting broken pieces of armor, lost scrolls to loved ones, and crafted a key which can only be given to the one who solves the Paratis puzzle. The last two letters **I** and **a** came up. Suddenly, all fourteen letters flew in a swirling motion onto a pedestal. The letters turned into thin, stone tablets and were presented upon a board which required Ethan to rearrange the letters in order to fit the name of the person inside the Vessel.

The undead made their way to the bottom of screaming prisoners begging Ethan to let them out. With no means to do so, he tried hard to look away from the carnage that was going to be brought upon them. By the time Monica made it to the second level of the Vessel's domain, she was surprised for ten seconds at how much it worked by using human bait as a permanent distraction. Kelley sat there watching the whole thing; Monica went over to her.

"I had to." Kelley said choking up. "I had to do something."

"I appreciate that. Hey, Monica turned Kelley's attention away, survival of the fittest girl. There's no telling how many more are in this temple. Just stay close to me; if Ethan doesn't make it..."

"He _will_ make it." She shouted.

Ethan called out to them for help. Monica ran by the raised cells and saw one that wasn't tampered with. Monroe was in that cell, beaten and helpless. She knew he was going to die soon, but she took the long way around the undead to get the sledgehammer she dropped. One mother beetle flew up and the wind from its ascension knocked her on the ground. She got back up and grabbed the hammer.

Suddenly, one undead decided to play silent assassin until she slammed his head, and kept slamming it down out of irritability until the head was nothing but rotten sludge. She got Monroe out and hauled ass back to Ethan to finish the puzzle. He was almost through in unscrambling the letters. So far from his point of view it consisted of two names; **a**, **c**, and **r** on the first name and **t**, **h,** **I**, **n** on the second name. Kelley gave some more letters to Ethan and already had the name "Archer" as the first name.

Right then and there, both he and Monica recognized who inhabited the Vessel, but it didn't matter when Cara's stag spirit came out of nowhere and blinding the undead. She implored Monica and the others to follow her; Ethan was adamant about leaving because he already knew the answer. He shouted the name "Archer Kurinthian" before all four disappeared from the Vessel's domain.

On the more disheveled side of one's predicament, Damien couldn't keep it together from the electrical shocks throughout his body. It was the first time he ever got struck by lightning. He kept walking until his footsteps became louder than his heartbeat. Through darkness and the sound of rainwater hitting the foundation like a bunch of missiles outside, he found himself entering an open cave. He had a hunch it was Venezia's place because as he made his way downward the surroundings felt too modern to be in Norse times. However it wasn't as sophisticated as her looks; it seemed to be torn apart by something recently. But it wasn't by Mother Nature's pissed off attitude. He held onto the holster of his gun and moved slowly to examine what he was seeing.

It looked to be a council chamber, personalized by hanging keepsakes and inscriptions on the walls that were written by a prisoner. How could the White Queen of the temple be a prisoner he asked himself? In the center of the cave had a table with seven council seats, probably where the Norse Architects sat and discussed temple construction he supposed. The design on the table looked antique: a faded red sun with white snakes sticking out of each corner like a hexagon. Footsteps treaded closer to the table that were not his own; the cave wasn't completely covered in darkness but enough for someone to sneak up on another. Damien looked up and saw a man on the far end of the table.

His face was clear as day. He had conviction, like a person in charge. Not only that, his attire looked religious with the faded red sun represented as a religious sigil. Damien felt a tense feeling in the cave; he looked straight at the guy while standing his ground.

"You seem lost." The man echoed. "At least you had the decency to not raise your gun at me at first sight."

"It's you isn't it?" Damien asked. "You're the one they call "Maestro?"

"Now what makes you say that." He asked with a slight smile as silence followed for a few seconds. "Heh, we got ourselves a problem here…don't we?"

Hindnoir felt unsteady for Carlos and an unconscious Terrell who was slowly healing from the combined red, yellow, and green healing herbs he composed together. They did wonders for him when he fought off the T-Virus outbreak back in Raccoon City. Aside from the temple slowly submerging each day, and two violent sea creatures on the war path since being free from their prisons, Carlos felt something was about to go down that went deeper than just the unnatural elements. It was just a feeling at the time; until that feeling turned to reassuring when Cara came back with Monica, Monroe, and two prison survivors, Ethan and Kelley.

He left the camp and made his way out of the forest area to help. Suddenly, the body of Monroe sparked concern as to whether or not he can help him. Cara's spirit forbade her to wake up and see one of her own in such conditions. After the pleasantries were made, he invited them to his camp to warm up and rest for a while. Carlos got out some more medical supplies when Cara told them she was going to look for Damien and bring him back soon. She disappeared soon after, leaving Monica somewhat speechless in what she just saw.

"I gotta say, Cara never looked like much but man that was cool." Monica told Carlos.

"Thanks a lot, stranger." Ethan said sarcastically. "We were _this_ close to discovering the man behind the Vessel."

"You guys know who it is?" Carlos asked.

"Archer Kurinthian." Monica answered. "He was that lost Architect who was rumored dead in his home. No word 'bout his daughter though."

"It could be one of the Queens." Kelley suggested. "The Vessel spoke to us about his lost kin."

"Wait, it spoke to you?" Carlos asked. "I keep learning new things every day."

Ethan went into more detail on that fact. The Vessel was an organic titan containing the first remnants of the Vallhallan Elixir. He ran many different parts of the temple; including the prison assembly line, keeping watch over the undead and the Maestro who commanded them. It was basically the heart and soul of the Kurinthian temple, and it was fitting since all suspected it was Archer in the first place. As for the Vessel speaking in the prisoners' minds, it told them what was going to happen to their future; whether that future was far or not happening regardless.

Those who posed a threat of any kind, prisoner or undead, were dealt with quickly. However, since Maestro's takeover with his awakening of the two queens, all three took an uprising against what the Vessel stood for. They took away his ability to keep track of the temple's stability, locked him away in chains with the Red Queen taking pleasure of torturing him until she took it too far, and forbade her in indulging even a drop of the elixir. She would have been too unstable for it. Over time, he became nothing more than a jaded, hanging meat sac that was used as a failsafe if the vault's elixir was compromised.

Ethan then spoke of the last thing it said to him; his wife Abby was going to be fine. Both were taken as prisoners in a Parisian dispute conducted by a well composed young man with words of infection in the region. It was years since they've seen each other; the Vessel never spoke ill of Abby since the day they were dropped in the prison cells. That was a few years ago and he still clung to hope she was still alive. He reminded Monica when he told her about how the Vessel does unquestionable things to its' rowdy victims; that wasn't the case for all prisoners. He kept his spirits up about his wife because the Vessel was also capable in hiding people in secrecy from both the Maestro and his queens.

The temple was miles wide; spacious landscapes and hiding spots were deemed advantageous. Carlos said he had been through two and a half miles worth of the temple; there was no telling how to get to other areas with the storm escalating. Ethan made a suggestion if Cara came back in finding Damien that she would take him to the one place Abby was kept. It wasn't impossible Monica pointed out; she was taken by Cara's ability to have a spirit inhabit her. He then turned his attention to Monroe's current condition.

"You think you can help him?" Monica asked.

"It'll take more than a healing spray to fix him up." Carlos replied putting his ear to Monroe's chest. "I got a faint heartbeat here."

"Those undead monsters." Ethan said with resentment. "Was he part of your group?"

"He was." Monica said. "He must've had a strength I didn't know about. Hey Carlos, got anything to eat?"

"Do you even care how he got this way?" Carlos asked with concern.

"It's required torture for those who are worthy of the elixir." Ethan pointed out. "I can use a bite myself if you have anything."

He poured alcohol and used whatever bandages he had left in his medical drop case. Monroe wasn't dead yet. To him that was either a good thing, or keep the index finger on the trigger.

"Well, he's stable for now. I'm not much of a doctor to be honest. So, he clapped his hands once, how would you guys like to try Barry's famous Jill sandwiches? "

"Jill." She said to herself. "Name sounds familiar. When I was in the vaginal tin can, there was talk of a lock picking school for young-ins. This "Jill" lady was rumored to teach classes."

"Nobody can best the master of unlocking." Carlos said. "Wonder what she's doing now."

Things were shifting and quaking in unnerving ways. Apart from the temple being submerged, two queens in unknown places, and the group sorely weakened, an execution was being put into effect so the Maestro's undead horde can see the faces of two traitors before meeting their fates. Travers, still somewhat oblivious to the Maestro's plans, sent the word out to any undead that was up and about. The execution was to be done in the Vessel's domain. It would be the first time Maestro stepped away from the shadows since he took over the temple.

Travers rallied a team of seven distinct undead types to track down the Red Queen; it was going to be a one way trip he thought. He felt the elixir he was given was ceasing to exist in his bloodstream. He couldn't transform properly into his superior self, but the undead that followed him still kept him in high regard. They made their way through ruined corridors which Travers removed most of the debris by pushing it away with brute force. One zombie got a faint whiff of Maeori's trail and led the rest of the group onward.

Eventually, they came across a torn down version of Odin's tomb. The history behind this in particular was based on the replicated bedroom Odin had in his kingdom of Asgard. It was once a timeless room made from the Architects as a way of introducing inspired minds of the next generation to learn the history behind the King of the Gods. The trail stopped cold; there wasn't a whole lot to look at. He ordered them to investigate the room to see if they can find anything related to Maeori being there.

Damien and the presumed Maestro had a sit down in Venezia's place. He tried his best to maintain his composure while being in the presence of someone quite capable of killing him in an instant.

"You are treading deep waters, young man." Maestro said sternly. "Why is there a statuesque person like you running around in a place like this? I wonder what your parents are thinking right now."

"You said we had a problem." Damien pointed out.

"It's impossible to wrap my head around anything these days. I've been living in…sheltered means for the past few years. I won't lie to an observant kid like you. I indeed am the Maestro of these historical proceedings."

"Half your temple's underwater. Two really pissed off sea creatures are swimming around as we speak. Do you…have a plan for them?"

"The problem here is I got traitors running amok in my temple. Now I know your people met both of them and would like to know where the White Queen Venezia is hiding. You help me, and your people can go before the rain takes you all."

"If I told you I have no idea where they are, most likely you'll believe me. As far as I'm concerned, Venezia isn't a serious threat." Damien said.

"You don't know her. She's more devious than she looks. She's been conspiring with a powerful resource to overthrow me and my goal in being here." Alex replied as Damien looked around. "We're completely safe here; no supernatural elements to meddle in our conversation."

"I won't lie to you." Damien sighed. "This has been one hell of an experience. I'm still pinching myself 'cause I'm pretty sure I should be dead by now."

"How's your grandmother doing? She must be worried sick about you; courageous move to send you out here on a personal field trip."

"Maestro, he said frustratingly clenching his gun, for both our sakes, don't bring my family into this."

"I meant no disrespect, young man." Alex assured him. "Family's important; yet there are those who would not deem it so."

"Since we're pouring our souls here, your family abandoned you when you were young too?"

"Observant indeed." Alex replied.

Back at the campsite, Carlos thought it would be good to demonstrate his comedic side when he was putting together the ingredients for Barry's famous Jill sandwiches. He said the sandwiches started as an inside joke between him, the bad ass family man Barry Burton, and of course the master of unlocking, Jill Valentine. Before that however, the origins of the joke came from when Jill and Barry were working together in a mansion full of undead and other B.O.W.s to boot. Jill was a police officer at the time; early twenties, had spunk like nobody's business, and Barry respected her as a strong woman. Like Carlos, Barry had his funny moments as well.

There was a time in the mansion Jill was trapped in a four walled room with the roof slowly collapsing on top of her. Spikes on the roof were sharp and bloody; Jill panicked for her life when she found no way out, and Barry found a way to open the jail bars blocking her escape. It was a touching moment between the two of them; that was when Barry lightened the mood by saying she was almost a Jill sandwich. Ever since Carlos escaped with Jill and Barry on a chopper heading out of Raccoon City, they kept in touch. What was another great character trait of Barry was that he proclaimed himself the master maker of sandwiches.

Not because anyone knew him for that, well, there are those who do in a sense, but he had an idea of retiring from the S.T.A.R.S. military unit. He wanted to start a sandwich making business so he can be closer to his wife and two daughters. A title or two for the store Barry had in mind was sure to draw in people to delicious subs with spices that kicked just as hard as his Samurai Edge. One store name was called, "What is this? THE GREATEST SUBS OF ALL TIME." Another suggested title was called, "SUBterranean Paradise."

Monica, Ethan, and Kelley were having a good laugh about it while having subs that cleansed the dusty depths in each of their stomachs. Kelley thought the sandwich was so good, she felt cheated out of what ingredients were in it. Carlos couldn't anticipate any longer. The Jill Sandwich started with two sides of multi-grain Italian bread; next you add sprinkles of pepper flakes that outlined nearly every crevice of the bread. But that part was only the calm before the storm. Next ingredient was five slabs of cooked salami with a small gob of sour cream on each slice.

In Barry's heroic voice Carlos performed, saying "the most important part," was the lettuce shavings followed by thick red and yellow peppers. They were the source for the spicy kick like Barry's gun. To top off the sandwich, the top bread piece was toasted with Garlic butter underneath to alter the taste. Along with other ingredients Carlos was unable to scrounge up, the Jill Sandwich as a whole was spicy, unpredictable, and willing to go the extra mile. It couldn't unlock doors, but the taste alone unlocked a new perspective in sandwich making.

"I haven't had a damn good sandwich like this since…I have no clue." Monica smiled.

"I think I died and went to heaven with this sandwich." Kelley replied with salami falling out of the sandwich.

"To your friend Barry; lost..." Monica said before Carlos finished.

"But definitely not forgotten." He replied getting out the red wine and soft drinks. "He's a good man that Barry; everything I hope to be someday."

They enjoyed being in good company. They ate, drank; something none of them have done in a while. Ethan and Kelley most of all; Ethan became concerned about the festivities due to the fact that neither Terrell nor Monroe woke up yet. As Carlos finished up and grabbed what medical supplies he had left to check on Monroe, Monica grew concerned for Terrell's health. She knew there was something about him being accustomed to the rough lifestyle he lived as a freedom fighter from Jamaica, but whatever happened to him did a huge number, and not just physically. Being in a female prison as long as she has, she had this way of telling when someone was about to snap.

Terrell's chest was going up and down as he was inhaling and exhaling. It was a good sign until Monica spoke softly to wake him up. It was that one little whisper of his name when suddenly his eyes bulged in a blind rage. Reacting quickly, he strangled her as she was trying to break free. Terrell had the soul of a bloodthirsty beast in his eyes; they had purpose to kill. Monica kneed him in an injured area of his chest which loosened his grip. She tried to tell him she wasn't the enemy. Terrell made a loud claim he had no idea who she was or why was he in a forest simulation in the first place. Carlos saw him and ran up to restrain what he was doing; Terrell landed a right hook and missed. He was then spun around and knocked out by the butt of Carlos's handgun. He called to Monica to look for wrist binders in his bag. He brought him back to the camp and had him lay on his side with hands tied behind his back.

"You alright?" Ethan asked her with worry.

"Fucking asshole." She said as she was coughing. "He nearly choked the life out of me."

"Hey, not in front of the kid alright?" Carlos said. "Cara was right. He's not mentally stable enough to be up and about."

"Want my opinion?" Ethan asked him. "The Blood Queen got to him."

"Makes sense; we found him under heavy dirt in Maeori's arena. She must've destroyed it after losing her temper or something. Why Terrell was there I don't know."

"Ok, is somebody gon fill me in? Who's Maeori?" Monica asked composing herself.

"The Red Queen of the temple. She's a vicious, unstable creature." Kelley explained sipping her soft drink.

"If she's anything like Umbrella's A.I. computer, her tantrum may have cost the temple's stability. Is he always this way?" Carlos asked.

"Not at all." Monica replied. "He's not insane if that's what you're thinking. Most of the time he keeps a cool head on things."

"Maeori must've turned up the heat on him." Ethan said.

The heat was definitely brewing inside the mentally broken survivor. Things were still tense for Damien's sit down with Maestro. Both compared war wounds and how their families have forsaken them as human beings. Apart from Damien having his grandmother raising him, Maestro had a father, an adoptive brother, and a butler with a tight lip and a blind eye when it came to keeping secrets. Maestro went on to briefly speaking about how he came from an upper class family that money spoke highly for the more influential types with more money than his own parents. He was too young to understand how powerful money was, nor was he brought up without a silver spoon in his mouth.

He made the joke taking out the spoon because he was choking on it. The conversation turned into a Q&A between them, both offering a piece of themselves on the table, and see if they would reach a common understanding Maestro explained. That was what separated him and his adoptive brother nowadays; he never underestimated someone he had never met. Damien told him about how his parents left him at a young age and divorcing a few months after the fact. A few years later both remarried other people and made separate families of their own.

Maestro never remembered his real parents, not entirely after the many things he has gone through in life; just faded images. But the majority of his childhood was being a science experiment for the inception of the Progenitor Virus called "Project W." He explained it as Ozwell E. Spencer's way in making a race of superior human beings and that they would live side by side controlling the world. However, there was a secret fraternity policing the world but he didn't go into that. There were thirteen children who were tested for the Progenitor Virus.

If they were to survive, they would have developed the 24th chromosome; a rare quality in the human population. Unfortunately, eleven children died during the first stages of viral injection. The results were decomposition, turning into deformed monsters; some were put down by Spencer himself because the feeling of having every human sense heightened wasn't all attuned for control. Two children survived: he and a young man named Albert. Both of their last names became a thing of memory, considering the families who raised them weren't going to come back for them anytime soon. Their last names became "Wesker."

Damien's mental defenses softened a bit and opened a little more about his sheltered lifestyle. He spoke of how his grandmother was as tough as the Berlin Wall; nothing and no one was capable in breaking her. She taught him to be strong, good at reading people so he would spot a lie as it was being told to his face. She also had a passionate aptitude for art he told him; she would get lost in a piece and not even care about a mandatory family dinner she wasn't even allowed to go to. Maestro asked him how she felt in letting him come to the other side of the world for a discovery he was never going to witness.

He grew silent on her current state of affairs and allowed Maestro to give some more insight on his surrogate father and adoptive brother. He described Albert as a misunderstood individual; very intelligent at a young age. He was brought up by his old family to believe there was a higher power in the universe, and only one would be able to take it. Spencer took immense interest in Albert's goals, but he saw both him and Alex as equals. After all, they were the results of the Progenitor Virus working on them.

They were able to obtain knowledge they would never dreamed of knowing; not for Alex anyway. Maestro had let slip his real name on purpose. Damien was then asked if he was familiar with Raccoon City or the Umbrella Corporation. Albert had a huge role along with a doctor named William Birkin. They were the perfect team to create the B.O.W.s and put the Ashford Family to shame. Umbrella grew and expanded across the world as the Pharmaceutical giant it was up until the late '90s. Then the T-Virus outbreak happened; his brother was presumed dead in the Spencer mansion just as it was detonated by two military teams from S.T.A.R.S.

What intrigued Alex was that in the aftermath of the explosion before a nuclear one took out Raccoon City, any traces of Albert were inconclusive. No body, no ash indicating it was human. By that time, Alex was in another country as head researcher for the G-Virus. If it was one thing Umbrella had that kept them going until their demise, contingency was paramount to results. He worked until it happened and drifted around the states until he was ready to go home to Spencer's estate, and continued to help progress the Progenitor Virus.

It was around this time Spencer's bitterness and resentment to Alex and the rest of the world started to take form. He was no longer the equal he was to Albert. Both believed his presumed death put the anchor on a lot of future plans, but Alex never gave up. Hence the expedition he made to Norway. Damien slowly perceived Alex as a smart guy, and felt like he didn't belong to a place like the temple; not everything he and the others have experienced. So far, nothing out of the ordinary jumped out at their tense sit down. He loosened his sweaty grip on his handgun, proposed a deal that was going to benefit the both of them. He had no idea what he was doing, but he wanted to give it a shot.

"I'd like to make a deal." He requested.

"You do now? Make your case." Alex replied.

"The Red Queen, Maeori, you said she was responsible for making the temple unstable?"

"She is."

"I'm tired, Alex. I'm starving; I don't have much hope left for my life back home. So why don't we join forces; my people with your people."

"Interesting." He said thinking for a bit. "Are they aware of this deal?"

"Not yet, and quite frankly I don't have an ounce of giving a shit. We hunt down Maeori together. We find her first we'll give her to you so you can execute her the way you see fit. On one condition: Venezia comes with us."

"Why should I agree to that?"

"You say she's devious. My people and I like a challenge; even if that challenge involves a sinking temple. If we bring her to you, if she admits what she's done will you spare her?"

"Well, I'm not without reason." Alex replied. "I can see you've done this before."

"Do we have a deal then?"

Alex gave the deal some thought. Damien's lower body was shaking like he was sitting on an ice block. He wiped the palm sweat on his pants and slowly hover his hand on the holster.

"You have an interesting way in negotiating, Mr. Walsh. Reminds me of the days when I used to substitute company meetings at Umbrella. Those people thought I was good too…at playing them for the idiots they were. You know, this whole time we sat here, you shook in your chair, trembling to the idea of what I might do to you. You _should_ be scared. Raccoon City, Rockfort Island, The Illuminados in Spain, you've never been a victim to any of these tragedies. Heh, you have no idea what a tragedy is, don't you? Family has been forsaken from us; that's the only thing we have in common, but you still hold bitterness for what they did to you. I made peace with mine. Your own grandmother must be ashamed, knowing her only grandchild has deserted her. It drives you to the point of insanity in clinging onto hope she'll still breathe when you get back."

"How do you know all this?" Damien asked in surprisingly.

"Your friend, Terrell." Alex said coldly. "His mind softened thanks to Maeori. It told me everything. The reason my undead aren't shredding your organs out is because you're way too pathetic to be killed by them. Don't be stunned." He said standing up. "Terrell went at his own free will. In my temple, there is no compromise. So did you really think I would work with your people? Think hard before retorting."

Damien stared dead straight at him with focus on escaping.

"No." He said before pulling out his gun and taking a shot.

Travers and his team of undead searched every inch of the ruined bedroom of Odin. No trace of the Red Queen was found, but the area was too quiet given the rainstorm brewing outside. They didn't even hear the rain drops either; they heard each other as they scavenged under moldy possessions and under Odin's bed. The more Travers searched he felt the elixir Maestro instilled in him was fading away faster than before. Thoughts of a new life as an immortal felt more like an outlandish tale that can be believed by either drunks or sick people.

His eyes started to roll back and the undead got weaker as they began to feel frail. One undead shouted in Norwegian someone was sucking the life out of them; the cool air around them felt thick and closed, causing Travers to try and retain his oxygen until he can figure out what was going on. Suddenly, the passage they came into the bedroom locked down. Travers' eyes then rolled back completely and he lost it. His body broke in four places and flushed out any elixir that was coming out where his spleen used to be. Through his agonizing screams, the cries of his undead grew louder.

It seemed like someone who was mindlessly slaughtering them; sounds of cracked limbs and vocal cords being ripped out as the voice of a crazed woman broke through. The slaughter didn't last long, not with his choosing of undead with the lowest concentration of elixir inside of them. Though it was tough for him to meet an end that came too soon, he got to thinking, maybe it was what he was waiting for. He wasn't a ruthless killer; he told lies and did anything to cover his own ass, but in the past life he was a proud army pilot that was desensitized to the events of Raccoon City. For him, it was the most devastating thing he ever had to experience. Not even his wife, Elaine was able to comfort him from the traumatic events.

At least, those aspects of his life were what helped him sleep at night. With each soul taken in that bedroom, he also felt regret for bringing Damien, Terrell, Monroe, Monica, and Cara to a dangerous place. The elixir in him shadowed over that regret by not being able to have helpers deliver the Vallhallan Elixir to his Maestro. But at this point it didn't matter; it was just him and Maeori.

"Jeg er skuffet i du, hvelvvakt." Maeori said in a sultry tone. "Sju døde imbeciles for meg; fucking anstøtelig. Hva er jeg å gjøre med deg?"

(I am disappointed in you, vault keeper. Seven dead imbeciles for me; fucking offensive. What am I to do with you?)

"Jeg kan forklare. Vær så snill å." He begged her.

(I can explain. Please?)

"Mester sendte deg etter meg. Hvorfor lytter til jeg bedrag nå?" She said placing both hands slithering around his body. "Verdifull sannhet smaker slik mye bedre."

(Maestro sent you after me. Why would I listen to deception? Truth tastes so much better.)

With no way of fighting back, Maeori maliciously ripped open Travers' chest and plunged her face inside to drink what was left of his elixir. She was desperate, angry when Maestro put her on a short leash because he didn't trust her potential. It only took a minute for her to drink him nearly dry; she came up for air with dark orange blood and pulsing veins on her face as she welcomed the elixir's effects. Her eyes rolled back taking it all in. She then looked back at him as she saw nothing but a hollow shell that was about to meet his inevitable fate. She allowed him his last words.

"Those humans I've sent, they're all going to kick your ass." He chuckled soon after.

Maeori opened her mouth like she was ready to chomp down on his bones while raising her left hand that turned demon form right in front of his eyes. At least for him, he didn't have to actually see the torture being done to him. Not a moment too soon, she punctured through his head, exploding into a hundred pieces. She tossed his body along with the undead. The elixir strain inside her went from heightening her senses to thoughtless hunger, but the worst part was that there were thousands of elixir filled undead limping around what was left of the temple, ripe for the taking. She was practically giddy with sadistic excitement so she got to work on feeding on the other bodies she mutilated.

It was a ballsy move for a young human confronting a force he did not fully comprehend. What was even gutsier, is putting a bullet in between the eyes and having a ten second feeling that haunting force dissipated, leaving the shooter a sigh of relief and made haste out of the council chamber. But that wasn't the case for Damien. He took the shot, and it landed in between Alex's eyes; however he stood up with skin tissue half blown off from his right cheek. Damien's heart stopped from the sheer sight of hanging flesh from an intimidating foe.

He didn't stick around for a surprise show so he ran back up to the cave entrance he walked out of. Alex picked the bullet from his brain as his face reassembled itself. He almost made it if he hadn't been grabbed with swift movement and thrown violently down to the council table, shattering it in half. His gun was on the far end of the room; he rolled down and struggled to get up. Suddenly, two legs appeared in front of his eyes. Alex punched his spinal cord and kicked his chest which sent him six feet away from the table. Alex then walked up to him with rage in his heart and grabbed him by his shirt.

"Nice shot. You exit was poorly timed though." Alex said as Damien had his head back. "Hey, he said positioning his head upright, stay awake alright?"

"Your face." Damien coughed.

"One of many positives the elixir can do. Choose your words carefully and you might get a taste."

Damien took out his knife and stabbed Alex's right arm and landed a left hook to land firm on his feet. Alex was knocked back for a moment, giving Damien time to grab his gun, but without grabbing his knife in the process, the knife was tossed with unbelievable precision at the gun's chamber, rendering it unusable. He picked up the gun and tried pulling it out.

"Don't waste your time. The knife is jammed a great deal in the weapon. You know, for a kid you don't strike me as a "run from the sight of danger" type. Perhaps I've been far removed from the world too long; maybe kids are gathering the strength to stand up to their betters. I don't know. It's obvious I can't let you go. The elixir wants you turned inside out; can't disagree with a gut feeling."

"We're not the threat here." Damien said dropping the gun. "You're just as screwed as we are in this place."

"That's true. I was feeling nervous when I saw Terrell's fighting style against a Kranner-Wolf. Too bad it ended up being his own brother."

Damien felt the sudden urge to try and beat down Alex with whatever dirty fighting techniques he was able to muster. It didn't go the way he planned when Alex damaged him a great deal and head-butted him to the ground. He felt useless, mentally kicking himself for thinking he can take on a man on his way to godhood. With every hit, every defense tactic in hopes of finding a way to slow him down, none worked to his advantage. Everything went numb when he was picked up once again. Alex raised his left arm and it mutated into a sword like weapon.

Suddenly, a sharp piece of sophisticated oak from the council table was lunged at his side out of nowhere, leaving Damien coughing up blood and regaining his grounds of escape. On all fours he looked up to what seemed to be a blinding image of a person in a white gown. Venezia had arrived; for what reason he had no idea. Then he was helped up with another friendly face; next to him was Cara with a sense of controlling the situation. The stag's voice asked him if he was okay; both teleported themselves out of Venezia's domain.

In a matter of seconds, they ended up back in Hindnoir where everyone saw the bright gold light down the steep hill. In Damien's mind, he went from one weird place to another; a recurring theme in the temple. Carlos was the first to make it down the hill to check on him before the others did. He gave him a pat on the back and helped him back up. Though he couldn't hear the outside chatter, Monica in particular was glad he was back with them, mostly because he had battle wounds to show like he did something. Sometime later on, Damien opened his eyes and saw Terrell still unconscious next to him. When he looked up it was Kelley hovering over him. She wanted to know who he was and if he was feeling alright; Carlos got on one knee and told him where he was.

"You're okay kid; a couple bodily bruises but you're going to live." Carlos said.

"Wher…where am I?" He asked.

"You're in Hindnoir: the last safe haven from any undead freaks still roaming the temple. Cara and I thought you were a goner."

"He's not infected is he?" Kelley asked.

"He's going to be fine." He assured her. "Your friend Terrell took the worst of it."

"Is he alive?" He said getting a look at Terrell's condition. "Aw damn..."

"He's been in and out. His breathing is shot, and he's not mentally stable; work of the Red Queen no doubt. Monica tried talking to him before he got hostile."

"He got lucky." She said in the background.

"When you're able, please talk to him. Maybe you'll have better luck."

"Ok." Damien agreed. "Give me a few minutes alone with him."

Carlos nodded and went back to the campsite with the rest of the group. Cara sat by his side as he informed Terrell he came back and wanted to get his attention. Terrell slowly turned to his side with everyone on edge on what he might do. It went smoothly for a start since he recognized Damien.

"Damien...?" He asked. "Is-is that you? Ugh, my ribs are killing me."

"It's been a while buddy. Look at us, we can't catch a break."

"Get in my boat". That's what Daryl said. Although I-I…didn't try to listen to him you know? My people were getting killed by mercenaries. I could still smell the smoke from the burning jeeps, hot flesh potent from bullet ridden bodies; the feel of my machete cutting down those causing the peril. Daryl was right; he was always right." He said before getting louder. "I mean he said for me to get in the goddamn boat, and escape the civil war!"

Damien and Cara became startled in what he was talking about. He tried to calm him down. The crazy eyes didn't help much though.

"Shouldn't we help?" Kelley whispered to Ethan?

"This is between them."

"Terrell, do you know where you are? Look, what happened in Jamaica, you had to make a hard choice. It was understandable; you were seeing your mother and older brother out safely, but there were people still living in the village aftermath. Your pride told you to stay." He said before Terrell spat on the ground.

"Guess we can go find that elixir now because it looks like we're all back together. This temple changed us, nearly killed us all! It's going to keep killing us until we fight our way out of here. Cara, if you're in there talk to me."

"It's me, T." Cara said in her normal voice. "The Queens won't find us here."

"How about Monroe; I don't see him here." Terrell said sitting up and looking around the forest surroundings.

"He's pretty beat up." Monica said. "I was unconscious when it happened."

"I see. At least you didn't have to see him suffer then. Not like me; not like my older brother. When I was a freedom fighter, we would always travel from one village to the next looking for medicine. It always came down to medical supplies. I mean, we were out there in the unforgiving rain and blistering sunlight for days, for weeks liberating camps. Then…it wasn't a savior's errand anymore."

"You said you watched your older brother suffer." Damien pointed out to him.

With his mind containing floating images and past transgressions, he explained a scenario first before getting to where he talked about seeing his brother get tortured. He talked about it like a nightmare made real. Back in his village, the carnage of what bloodthirsty mercs left behind was still present. It was dark, misty on the ground with a cold chill to give him the impression someone was sneaking up on him. The smell of rotting flesh was unbearable, until it led him inside a village shack where bodies looked like they were chewed on.

A dark figure was seen feasting on a body; Terrell said it was him in zombie form. Carlos's suspicion was right he told him. Maeori was indeed the one responsible for bringing back buried memories of his mistake in not leaving the village while he had the chance. She twisted his mind while walking through one of the misty passages; Cara recalled how they separated to cover more ground. What was even worse was when he had to fight in an arena against a Kranner-Wolf. It was a test of strong will to see if he was fit to taste the elixir, as well as being the husband of a crazed harpy. Throughout the entire match he said, he kept looking around for an exit out of the arena.

His eyes were opened like never before. After he delivered one last blow to finish off the wolf, the beast turned into human form; his own brother Daryl. He died in his arms being the only one who made the right call all those years before. Terrell would send medicine and food to Daryl and their mother whenever he could, but after the liberation of Barbados the entire region was picked clean. His hard found resources stopped coming in. He then told them about how Daryl took a trip to Norway after hearing a rumor about a medicinal source to cure many ailments.

It was too good to be true, but with their mother he was willing to make the trip. He had a hunch about Maeori being behind Daryl's transformation to the wolf. All those memories flooding back drove him from madness to empty depression. However, he chose not to cry for them; he had shed enough tears in the arena. All he wanted at that moment was rest so he could build up his strength, and focus on the task burying the elixir for good.

"Are you sure about this, man?" Damien asked?

"Sadly, I'm inclined to agree with him." Cara told Damien. "When I was looking for you, more than three miles of the temple was under water. That's why it took me longer to find Venezia's hiding place. She helped me remove Alex's supernatural blocks so we can keep going. 28 hours guys; that's all we have left to find the elixir and get out of Norway. We need to start moving now."

"Couldn't agree more." Carlos said as he stood up. "I was hired to look for the White Queen and free the Vessel from his prison. Venezia's real name is Phylicia Kurinthian; the Vessel is her father."

"We would've made the job easier if we weren't poofed away." Monica said.

"Believe me, rescuing you was dead last on my list." Cara said to her.

"We're grateful nonetheless." Ethan announced to everyone. "Continue Carlos."

"Norway was a standalone contract until Nicholai came in the picture, and made things difficult. My client also said I'm supposed to kill anyone that stood in my way; _anyone. _But it needs saying that I'm not Umbrella. You all seem resourceful in your own way. We can't let Alex Wesker leave with the elixir. There's not much choice to flee you two, he told Ethan and Kelley, or taking your chances fighting your way out." He said to Monica. "Our objective is for the trophy room; it's going to be a one way trip once we're out there. So, what do you guys say?"

Monica being her usual self agreed in seeing the adventure through to the end. She killed a mother beetle while getting out of the prison cells so she felt she could take on anything. Everyone else joined in when there was no other option to find. Suddenly, Damien chimed in when he explained why there were bruises on his body.

"I met this Wesker. We sat down for quite a while. He strongly believes the elixir is his key in stopping bioterrorism, keep future outbreaks from happening."

"He's wrong." Carlos said. "Burying the stuff will _prevent_ bioterrorism."

"I won't lie. I uh…tried reasoning with him. We shared the same parental backgrounds, got left in the wind to grow on our own and whatnot. But I was wrong."

"We are all messed up. That's why we're here." Terrell said.

"We got work to do. Wesker's strong, but he won't suspect us being outside in the storm. There's got to be a ship somewhere otherwise we're sitting ducks."

Kelley saw Monroe's hand rose behind her and told everyone he was waking up. Ethan and her stood as everyone was about to see one of their own alive in one piece. However, that wasn't the case at all. Carlos did the best he could with Monroe's condition; anti-biotic for the open wounds and dressings for the broken bones. But there were some areas of him that had broken bone pieces sticking out of his abdomen and legs. Even if he was alive he wouldn't be much use from a mobile standpoint.

When Monroe stood up with his back turned to the group, his spine was disjointed and sticking out the skin tissue. His color went from mucky and red to a color no one was able to distinguish, but Monica was familiar with the type. She stood to the side in silence while Carlos and the others bared witness to a deformed soul. He turned around with soft snarling; eyes jaundiced with purple and dark yellow. He put his left foot forward and the sound of bones cracking left an acoustic scare in the forest.

On the ground, slowly making his way to people he once called "friends" at one point, left Kelley clinging to Ethan's arms with Terrell looking down. Damien and Cara felt devastated. Damien asked Carlos what happened; he said the elixir must've made its way into his bloodstream when the undead had beaten him to death. Monroe was the only one who got away he said. Cara couldn't find the words to decipher the situation; she dropped to her knees as if gravity brought her there. As for Monica, she looked straight in his eyes knowing full well what was necessary to do.

She took the sledgehammer she found from the Vessel's domain and walked towards him. Cara all of a sudden followed suit with gun firm in hand as she walked ahead of her, aimed with strained sight and tears distorting her vision. Monroe looked at her one last time, and before both knew it she shot him in the head. Monica dropped the hammer as everyone became surprised with Cara's decision to end his suffering. No word was spoken as the sound of the gunshot echoed Hindnoir.

A raging storm provided no end in sight for the temple. Three miles leading to almost four full miles was submerged. Many rooms and shrines dedicated to the Norse Gods became buried ruins of their former glories. However, the undead that inhabited the entire place was left unscathed. Those who had high concentrations of elixir inside of them managed to trigger their basic dodging functions and swam through areas that weren't blocked by rubble.

They numbered in the thousands, crawling and swimming their way in the direction of the Vessel; their Maestro had something planned for them. By the time they filled up all four levels of the domain, the area was dark and suspicious to them, nothing but their own snarls and distant roars to keep each other alert. Suddenly, torches lit up on the four levels including the Maestro's standing, and the Vessel's imprisonment to witness the undead atrocities. As soon as they saw him, some cheered his name while others went restless in what was happening on the outside. Alex had them settled as he gave word as to why they were brought for the unprecedented event.

"Hvad jeg behøver at sige bliver sagt i dette sprog," he announced in the Danish language. Brødre, søstre, børn af Fartøjet. Obviousness af ødelæggelseseomkredse os dette øjeblik. Skulle jeg være bange, eller nostalgisk? Norse legende har sagt, at før det Sidste Testamente, blev verdnen indhyllet af en massiv storm. Det rengjorde og udryddede alt i dets kølvand. Tidevand besteg og tørrede bort hære, begravede konspiratorer, der søgede at fremstille en mørk tid i dets mythology. De syv Arkitekterne har efterlignet den store storm; det tilsigter at drukne os alle med templet. Det vil ikke ske i min historie, og du ved hvorfor? Vallhallan Elixir er nu parat at blive udløst oppe på menneskehed!

Everyone cheered in unison for the elixir's grand entrance to take shape upon the fragile world Umbrella left behind. He then enticed them to the main event.

Ja! Med elixir i os, vil ingen dæmon fra nogen korporation modvirke. Men en mere alvorlig materie behøver at blive gjort. Jeg udtrykker angrende min tristhed for mine darling dronninger. Som for nylig, de har organiseret mod mine mål, drak din type tolv af din venlig tørke og sammensværgede sig med mennesker, der har overfaldeet vort hjem. Nu, er disse mennesker stærk, resourceful, enestående, og på hver drejning undgået død udfald. Men de vil, hvad vi ejer! Vil vi lade kættere gå og vil tage, hvad vi har," he preached as the undead disagreed?! "Oplys dem!"

(What I have to say will be said in the Danish language. Brothers, sisters, children of the Vessel. The obviousness of devastation surrounds us this moment. Should I be afraid, or nostalgic? The Norse legend has said that before the Last Testament, the world was engulfed by a massive storm. It cleansed and eradicated everything in its wake. Tides ascended and wiped away armies, buried conspirators who sought to fabricate a dark time in its mythology. The seven Architects have mimicked the great storm; it intends to drown us all with the temple. That will not happen in my history, and do you know why? The Nectar is ready to be released onto mankind!

Yes! With the elixir in us, no demon from any corporation will oppose. But a more serious matter needs to be done. I regretfully express my sadness for my darling queens. As of late, they have campaigned against my goals, drank twelve of your kind dry and conspired with humans who have invaded our home. Now, these humans are strong, resourceful, unique, and at every turn avoided deathly outcomes. But they want what we possess! Are we going to let heretics walk in and take what we have?! Bring them out!)

The two once well respected queens of the Kurinthian Temple were dragged out in chains by one, overweight zombie each. They came on opposite sides of the domain and the undead cheered with pride when their heads would be off with their bodies. Venezia and Maeori weren't in the best of shape, especially Venezia. She picked a fight with Alex to give Damien time to escape; she had good intentions but the devious part of her remained to be seen. Maeori looked like her life drained from her cheeks and dragged in chains as both laid beside Alex.

"Ved viljen af den Faldede Nectar dømmer jeg begge af dig i en kamp til døden. Lad udførelsen begynde!"

(By the will of the Fallen Nectar, I sentence both of you in a fight to the death. Let the execution begin!)

Alex walked away with two overweight brutes following behind him. Both queens looked at each other, feeling exhausted with Maeori having a pissed off look like she was out for blood. Sudden death was in play, and the execution began.

28


	7. Part VI: A temple divided

Temple of Kurinthian

Part VI: A temple divided

Time moved against all who inhabited the temple. With each cracking wave breaking through the foundation, it was time to move fast for Carlos and the others. It was going to be a trip to No Man's Land when reaching the trophy room. As everyone else gathered their belongings around the camp, Cara stood over Monroe's body frozen in time. It was like she was forced to watch the elixir ooze out of his brain to make her take in the necessarily reckless deed in ending his life.

She then dropped on her knees as tears seamed down her face. There were many occasions on the base in Venezuela when she would listen to Monroe's inner monologues about how it wasn't fair he lost his girlfriend, with restraining orders he didn't even deserved. Cara was the kind of person who listens to people on an intimate scale. She believed a damaged person had way more character than an unscathed one. Raccoon City taught her there was a whole new world other than the one she had lived in. The busy family, developing her singing skills, eating chocolate éclairs during closing time at the restaurant with her mother, all fleeted a great distance the moment a zombie took her aunt away from her.

She accepted the Norway trip half expecting the horrors within; a character flaw on her part with curiosity about the dangerous side of things. Week after week she built up enough courage to confront Monroe about what really happened with his girlfriend and his past endeavors. Monica shouted over her to get her ass in gear and put her stag spirit to work. Terrell worked at his own pace in composing himself for the endgame of Norway, not really acknowledging the situation around him. After taking what was left of a used health spray that was used on Terrell's injuries, Damien kneeled next to her to see how she was doing. She wanted to bury Monroe and express a secret that was sure to die with him in the next few minutes.

"If we had the time..." Damien told her.

"28 hours I said." She replied. "I'm sure the temple will still be standing after a burial has been given."

"I…I understand how you must be feeling. Not, he said before Cara spoke, in the passing sense. Oh what am I saying? I've never shot a human before."

"If you two are going to bump uglies while this place is going to hell, be my guest." Monica shouted! "We need all the help we can get, Cara."

"Oh lay off, Monica. They can take care of themselves. We don't need you as our drill sergeant." Terrell said.

"We're all ticked in what's happened to us." Kelley told him. "Let's just hurry."

"I want to bury him." Cara announced. "You guys can go if you want. But I'm going to stay and pray for a while."

"As much as it pains me, we really do have to go." Carlos said. "The undead are probably climbing and clawing their way to survival in this storm and it's not slowing down any time soon. Please."

"We need a ship right; to get to the trophy room? Let me speak with Eikpyrnir and see if there's a harbor somewhere."

She closed her eyes and spoke to the stag telepathically. After a few, brief minutes her eyes widened with her hand pressed over the roof of her nose. Carlos asked if she knew anything, still surprised with the gold aura serenating around her being. There was only one ship still useable in a Viking Harbor to the South West. It was inside a massive storm drain that was once used as getaway routes when Vikings overstayed their welcome.

The ship was big enough to hold the seven human survivors. Carlos led the others out of Hindnoir as Damien and Cara stayed to pay their last respects. Suddenly, the walls outside the replicated forest began to shake; this time it didn't feel like rain drops turning into tiny boulders, trying to break in. Little quakes jumped all over the place. Damien kept both eyes open on his surroundings. Then out of nowhere, he started to eulogize for his fallen friend.

"How do you truly know a person? An old saying given by common knowledge of the world is you don't truly know someone until you actually meet them. Some say a month isn't enough; some say a year isn't enough. To anyone else, 30 days or 365 days go by fast and you feel you've only met that friend just yesterday. Sadly, that's how I feel about Monroe.

He was the talkative sort. He always wanted to get in everyone's business thinking a bunch of strangers were going to justify his past. I've only spoken to him of three occasions; a common number, but it's true. My grandmother taught me to read people, to see what kind of person they are. All I saw was an optimistic guy with a hidden depth about him, like he felt betrayed or something. The whole time in Venezuela I kept worrying about my own problems and much less anyone else's. What I'm trying to say is, whatever sacrifices you made here, Monroe, you gave all of us a reason to see this through. If things were different in your lifestyle, I'm sure your girlfriend would be very proud of you."

"Mandy, Cara brought up, that's her name. They've only been together for two months before the restraining orders came up. Monroe was…very talkative wasn't he? Then at night he went full on storyteller. He kept going on about the things he did, how it wasn't his fault. Mandy was stabbed in London by some ass hole drunk who didn't want to pay his tab. She was a bar tender.

Monroe drove to the pub that night to pick her up when her boss said she left twelve minutes before he arrived. One of the patrons came back after a smoke and screamed there was a dead body out back. The patron claimed she didn't get a good look at the body. He followed them outside with the boss holding the flash light; it was her. Throat slit, but barely any bruises on her. He said the police reports described it as a tussle favoring the lady and not much the brute that maimed her. Then Monroe began to wonder how many slimy drunks had it in for her."

"Not very often we see female bar tenders putting their foot down and cutting them off their liquor." Damien said.

"A drunken man is a crazed one. Seen a few of them myself back in Toronto. Monroe lost it after her death, determined to find out who caused it. When Monica said he had a hidden strength she didn't realized existed it finally clicked. Before all this, he was just a regular, non- confrontational guy. Then he went out and got addresses for fifteen bar stoopers who got their tabs cut off too soon. Three restraining orders from each guy were sent out to the police department: one for aggravated assault, one for disturbing the peace, and one for their banishment from the pub."

"Did he ever find out who actually did it?"

"His best friend; they were seeing each other. They were real close until the relationship fell apart. Monroe saw what it was like and thought he could make it better if he dated her. It turned out she was leading both of them on, but Monroe repressed that part of his life out, blamed it on the restraining orders."

"That's messed up." Damien said.

"He just wanted someone to listen. He joked a lot but it was a cover up of his past. Well, at least he's free."

Sounds of quakes once again took shape rumbling Hindnoir's foundation to its brittle knees. Before they left, Damien noticed a red object at the camp. It was an incendiary grenade left by Carlos no doubt. He brought it back and told her the best thing they could do was burn him; there was no time for a proper burial. Cara took the grenade and both got some distance before throwing it. As she said goodbye one last time, she tossed it and Monroe's body burned, along with his constant confliction of a past. They made their way out of the forest to rejoin the others.

Level after level, filled with Alex's undead cheering and roared for traitorous blood to be shed in the presence of the Vessel. Venezia and Maeori, two of the fiercest queens in all of the Kurinthian Temple, stood in muck and filth as both waited for their end of their violent reigns, and their lives. That's what Alex wasn't hoping for however. He couldn't stick around for the fight due to current matters concerning the seven remaining humans on the move once again. He gave his two, overweight brutes specific instructions if even one queen escaped, to transform into their animalistic nature and finish the queens off themselves.

They wholeheartedly accepted the task and went back to conduct sudden death. Venezia was in chains tried to get Maeori's attention as she sat like she was crucified. Orange and red blood vessels were shown all over her face, and suddenly the chains were released from their wrists. Maeori stood up slowly as Venezia looked at her father to find a way to free him; no answer as of yet. One of the brutes roared to the crowd and Maeori made the first move by running rapidly towards Venezia and pinned her in the mucky ground of torn up corpses.

She kneed Maeori in the nether region and grabbed her neck before driving her face into the ground. She got up and went in a defensive position. Maeori rose and smiled as the blood vessels bled out on her face; she jumped mid-way and performed a high kick when Venezia took her leg and sent the side of her left hand to Maeori's neck. She then twirled her around as fast as she was able. Before making a counter move, Venezia released her into the second level of the undead. It left a small window for her to find a way to free her father from the prison.

That was when the second level of undead exploded out of anger as Maeori jumped down like a direct missile, and punched her so hard its' impact sent her body towards the Vessel itself, leaving the chains holding him breaking a bit. Many zombies fell and gathered around the queens as the brutes kept them in line as they fought. Venezia reasoned with her throughout the ordeal, saying Maeori had the power to change things in the temple, to kill Wesker for making them prisoners for so long. She told herself she wouldn't have it' her mind opened to a whole new perspective from the elixir. Most of her prior strength as the Blood Queen evaporated from her muscles as the elixir taken from Travers and his tainted souls made her something more.

At this point, after showing nothing but sentiment to her blood thirsty sister, she let down her hair and fiercely got down to it. She didn't care if she had to kill Maeori to get her father free. She was done convincing her what Wesker's intentions in using the elixir against the world. As they fought with fearless drive and acrobatic agility, Venezia gained another idea. As the temple was crumbling outside, the walls from inside the Vessel's domain weren't entirely stable. The undead on the three other levels didn't help with their feet stomping and their screeches making more cracks in the walls. At the same time they were fighting, her father's voice finally entered her mind. It was faint yet enough to get the message across. He spoke in the Danish language.

"_Du har ikke meget tid." _A faint voice echoed in Venezia's head.

(You don't have much time.)

"_Far; Åh takgud, som du er endnu levende."_ She responded telepathically.

(Father; thank god you're still alive.)

"_Timerne gror kortere hver dag, mit barn. Vi må forlade dette sted."_

(Time grows shorter each day, my child. We must leave this place.)

"_Jeg regner med det. Maeori har elixir i hende, men det er ikke den rene kilde som din. Du har nok styrke at bryde åben cocoon?"_

(I'm counting on it. Maeori has the elixir in her, but it's not the pure source like yours. You have enough strength to break open the cocoon?)

"_Et stød, fra hvilket du lavede det lettere for mig at bevæge rundt. Hvis du kunne sende hendes min måde, vil hendes stød være nok at bryde lænkerne og for mig at bryde fri."_

(One impact from you made it easier for me to move around. If you could send her my way, her impact will be enough to break the chains and for me to break free.)

Venezia had the exit strategy planned out for their escape; there was still a danger though. Since the Vessel's elixir was pure, any undead still present on the ground could get a taste once he freed himself. As for Maeori, no one knew how much she could take in elixir-wise. She had enough energy to kill until her heart was content. As a final attempt, Venezia's nails extended in beastly form and sent them through Maeori. With five claws of seeping orange and red blood off their tips; the roars from the undead escalated.

She grabbed Maeori by her hair, and implored her one last time to give up and run away with her, but like any addict she wasn't leaving without getting her fix. It was all she cared about; she cared no more for the revenge of Wesker curbing her blood lust, being trapped in a sarcophagus long after the Norse mythos ended. So Venezia ended it but not before long she noticed an oval object lied dormant in her belly. She launched Maeori full force against the Vessel, falling to her unaccepted defeat. The impact of the second queen's body to Kurinthian's forced the Vessel to break off from one chain with the other breaking just as well.

She took Maeori and flew a great distance away to see her father tumbling onto the middle of the domain. One of the brutes had gotten a hint at what Venezia was trying to do and was going to take action. She broke both of his legs, jumped over him and twisted his neck-less head, falling backward leaving yet another trembling impact on the ground. She went back to an unconscious blood queen and used one of her nails to open her stomach. It was half of the key Alex used to unlock her sarcophagus. For a long time, Venezia thought it was lost forever. As the undead got restless and flying all over the place, the Vessel opened with immense red steam coming out.

A disheveled, half dead man swam from the elixir to the surface and emerged like a butterfly ready to spread its mighty wings. Suddenly, the entire domain grew silent. Sounds of debris falling relentlessly into the rain water outside created a calm energy in the area. Filled with joy, Venezia hastily left Maeori's side when her father stopped her.

"Dræb den Røde Dronning. Da kan vi forlade." Her father said.

(Kill the Red Queen. Then we can leave.)

"Er der på en, hvilken som helst måde vi kan helbrede hende; letter hendes liding," she asked him? "Hun var netop så meget en fange af Wesker, som vi var."

(Is there any way we can heal her; ease her suffering? She was just as much a prisoner of Wesker as we were.)

"Jeg beklager, he replied with regret in his voice, hun er hinsides hjælp nu."

(I'm sorry. She is beyond help now.)

The half key she found in her stomach concealed another source that held her life together. It wasn't the elixir she took from Travers or his followers; it wasn't even the torture she entreated herself when she was with Terrell. It was something a lot more…simple. An embryotic sac where the heart used to be was shown. He told Venezia it was the main theme with the Vallhallan Elixir; the ability to evolve into the last stage of human evolution, but still retain the human side of oneself. Removing the sac from her body will put her soul to rest after endless centuries from imprisonment. Venezia bent down to reach inside for the sac; it felt ten pounds heavy and was very rigid when moving it. Maeori woke up with a hail of anger and pain surging throughout her body, screaming and cursing when Venezia was pulling the sac out. Before she made one last tug, Maeori made one last request. It was probably the sanest thing she ever did when she was alive.

"M-make s-sure..." She said gurgling blood from her mouth. "Wesker doesn't l-l-eave this place. You were so good to me. I f-failed you."

"Forgive me, sister." Venezia said kissing her forehead before pulling the sac out completely.

Her body seized and scratched helplessly to be free from her pain. Suddenly, her body turned from decay to red ash as it circulated around Venezia. Kurinthian raised both of his mangled hands and brought the ash to him for a better view. The silent undead reverted back into thoughtless rage when they all jumped down from their respective levels and went chaotic on the father and daughter. Venezia got behind him as he unleashed a hail of his energy along with Maeori's and turned every single undead back into regular corpses. Then the energy circulated around, taking in every elixir strain, every enslaved life force Wesker instilled, and opened himself up to those burdens.

The ash entered his body and surprisingly made him whole again. Venezia, or in the present state of things, Phylicia, held him before he collapsed from the Vessel's cocoon. She jumped down with him and gazed into his eyes; joy overwhelmed her aching heart. However, she didn't understand the gravity of what he just did. In his own version, living inside a monstrous vat of the elixir helped him understand the true meaning behind its effects.

He was under the impression at one point, Maestro, or Alex Wesker he came to know him as, was going to use the temple as a testing center for out of the country operations for dying patients. It was supposed to be the absolute form of the Progenitor Virus. Phylicia understood that much when she was Alex's White Queen. In his solitude, he learned many things, revealed secrets about the future of Wesker's intentions. He said the world will enter in a period of frailty and viral atrocity, all caused by two men from very different times with aspirations in becoming gods.

Alex was indifferent to their views and how some corporation corrupted them: one with power and the other by old age. In some ways Kurinthian said, he was conflicted just as much as his own daughter was; hence the backstabbing and converting undead against Wesker and overthrow his cause for the elixir. Archer then put history to the side for the moment and hugged his daughter for the first time in many years. It became an emotional moment for both of them; a father and daughter reunited.

"I-I managed to tap into a human's mind. She's different from the others." Archer said.

"How so?" She asked.

"Some spirit known as Eikyprnir; they've been together since they entered the temple. They're heading for the Viking Harbor." He said before coughing.

"I've met a few of them. I spared one from the mother beetles but I didn't recognize the younger ones. I didn't hurt them did I?"

"One from their group is gone. You didn't do that though." He said as they moved out of the domain. "What was Wesker…thinking to disturb the dead like that? He's no better than his own brother."

Both rested for a second with all the adrenaline and feelings hitting Phylicia hard. She finally did it she thought; all this time Alex was controlling her and Maeori and forcing them to rob graves and kill fresh people. When she was fighting her sister, she had full control in her abilities and not having any tendencies to hold back, but under the circumstances Alex lost the need to keep them around. She looked ahead and saw a lookout point where they could see how bad the storm was outside. Archer told her any opening was a lookout point in the temple's current state. She got him on his feet and kept moving.

The Viking Harbor was a few miles to the southwest. Phylicia was a fast swimmer and was capable making the journey. Suddenly, Archer realized he felt the presence of two monstrous sea creatures let loose by Maeori. At the lookout point, they caught one swimming around the temple's debris. Luckily, it was the eel, Morpheus. She then had an idea for him. Both jumped into the water with nothing to come back to on the surface, and swam in the eel's direction towards the harbor.

For miles everybody was making their way to the Viking Harbor as Cara's spirit guided them. The temple was really coming apart; water came crashing into the foundation, leaving them drenched and slowly losing hope. Terrell tried his best to keep up with Monica and Kelley; his ribs did him in and were cutting off his ability to breathe. Damien and Ethan saw him slowing down and went back to help him along. They pressed forward until they got on top of a ridge overlooking a large opening to the raging storm outside. If that wasn't enough, down below had an ocean filled with undead. The harbor was not too far, but they would have to tread through the undead to get to it. Carlos couldn't find an alternate route, not even Cara when she looked through her sniper lenses.

"There's so many of them." Damien said looking at the ocean. "Knifing them is going to take effort."

"I ain't going down there." Monica made clear. "If there's no other choice, we have to stick together to break through."

"I can get by without them grabbing me easy enough. I can scream to lure some away." Kelley suggested.

"Good thinking, kid." Monica acknowledged.

"Nobody's doing anything until we know for sure to make a run for it." Carlos said when sounds of a huge debris toppled down behind them.

"Here's what you're all going to do." Terrell talking to the group. "The temple is finished. We stay here, we die anyway. Cara, how many shots you got left?"

"Eight I think. It won't kill them though." Cara replied checking her gun.

"Nothing's going to kill these bastards. The harbor's down that path right? I'll hold them off."

"Like hell you are!" Cara said. "We're not losing you again."

"She's right." Damien replied. "With your condition I doubt you'll survive the fall down there. They won't give you a fighting chance."

"How do you want to play this, Terrell?" Carlos asked.

Amongst the bickering, Ethan saw something in the distance behind them. More undead were gathering and persisted to the latter temple parts that haven't been submerged. Terrell asked Monica to give him the hammer she got from the Vessel's domain. She hesitated to do so, but he was very direct in what he wanted to do, even if it cost him his life. She gave it to him along with a nod to give the undead hell. Cara couldn't bear to see the situation unfolding for his decision; instead she hoofed it right and found a separated cliff for her to climb and provide cover. Terrell gave his final word before dealing with the undead.

"It's funny. I clung on to hope all of us would get out of this alive. You going out with a bang; if there was any other way." Damien told him.

"Tonight I break my promise to Daryl. He wanted me to live on and carry the Amaro bloodline. This hasn't been an easy decision, Damien. If you and Cara survive Norway, promise me you two will find peace in this world." He said as he abhorred the sight of the undead below. "I can't believe a corporation spawned all of this. There are enough monsters in human form in today's society. I've shamed my family; I've shamed my people. It's my fault for letting the Red Queen use me like she did Daryl. I'll hold out as long as I can."

Damien looked at him, holding back tears yet with purpose still set in motion. They both shook hands bidding each other good luck.

"You're a better human being than the ones who ran that shitty corporation. I'll be seeing you, friend." Damien said.

As soon as they parted ways, Terrell climbed down the ridge for his distraction to begin. Looking through her sniper scope, Cara saw a bold, yet stupid man making their only viable option possible. Damien and the others went to the other side with Carlos at the helm to get some potshots off a couple zombies. All their hearts were pumping for the chance to run; six seconds flat with hammer firm in one hand and secretly taking Cara's knife in the other, he trampled through the raging waters to knock down some elixir undead. Cara shot one zombie which lured a grand amount to the location where the shot was heard. The undead went from moving like zombies and went straight into hunter mode.

Still impeded with pain in his ribs, Terrell worked through the pain to throw and drop kick some against the rock. Some of the adrenaline he retained from the arena was still present thanks to Carlos's healing herbs. When enough of them cleared the way to the harbor, everybody else climbed down and ran like they've never ran before. With half a clip in his assault rifle, Carlos shot a few zombies as Ethan managed to knock one out. Cara only had one bullet left to make it count.

Terrell looked up as he was fighting and told her to go. She cursed and took the rifle with her as she dropped to the water and made haste to rejoin the others. They reached a bridge which spiraled around to the other side where the harbor was. One zombie jumped out of nowhere and grabbed Ethan. As he fended him off while the others were helping, a gun-shot sent the zombie flying into the deep ocean outside.

"Thank you, miss." He praised her as she helped him up.

"Nice shot, girl!" Monica shouted.

"Terrell...?" Carlos asked her as she nodded "no?"

"Let's just get to the harbor." she said in a broken voice.

Much to their surprise, the Viking harbor was still intact. The ship was anyway; everything else collapsed and there were no open passages for shelter. The Agmund as it was called was a small vessel that was able to hold decent cargo and a few Vikings at once. It was a trade ship in a sense. The walkway to get on the ship seemed stuck from Carlos's point of view; it was still raised by two thick strands of rope.

He checked his rounds and only had one bullet left to shoot off one of the supports. He was about to take the shot when Monica called out something hurdling towards them in the water. They moved as far as they could; lightning was the least of their worries when Blodbad emerged from the sea. A man sized, terrorizing piranha with centuries of carnage to his name. Everybody hid in the shadows behind some rocks.

Blodbad sniffed around for a solid minute when suddenly lightning struck his scaly back, causing him to go under the sea in search of whatever purpose he set for himself. Damien made the call, saying the coast was clear and made it back at the walkway of the ship. Carlos shot one of the supports and it left the bridge hanging. Cara had a few bullets left in her hand gun and made the shot on the second support. The bridge hit the ground like a battering ram. Everyone went on board with Ethan nearly falling to his death when the walkway gave out. Monica and Kelley caught him in time and pulled him up.

"I need to start losing weight." Ethan chuckled.

"Don't worry about it, old man. We're not out of this yet." Monica said.

The Agmund contained two levels: the main deck and double doors leading to an armory. Everybody was ready for their one way trip, but the only problem was nobody knew how to sail a ship. Monica said she rowed a canoe to capture a gator in Bon Temps once, and Ethan took a cruise with his wife Abbey along the Great Barrier Reef. Other than that, the ship wasn't going anywhere. The storm happening in front of them wasn't going away any time soon either. They all dispersed to find out how to get it moving when Cara was soon inhabited by the stag.

Looking at the mast Eikpyrnir spoke to her feeling depressed how a great monument made by the Architects was lost. It became her home for centuries; after her corporeal being faded her spirit inhabited the temple thanks to Odin. Cara asked about Terrell; she knew full well what the answer was going to be but she was curious anyway. It was as she predicted. Eikpyrnir herself had never seen a young man with a stronger resolve in all her days, even when his mind was still broken from the loss of his family. Like any great warrior making a final stand, Terrell made his own, and in the end his life force was no longer ignited. Cara shed two short streams of tears. Everything was happening so fast she didn't get the chance to take it all in.

Eikpyrnir was holding those emotions and guiding her through because there was more at stake. Cara didn't have time to examine what would possess a tyrant and his queens to do such horrid things like the zombies roaming the temple. However, she put it aside and told Cara to get everyone's attention. By that she meant, leaving her body and appearing as the spirit she once presented herself to be. This time Cara didn't feel malnourished or physically drained.

"That's amazing." Kelley told Ethan.

"No one in America will understand what we've been through. This is the first pleasant sight I've seen in years. If only Abbey was here to see it."

"Is everything alright?" Carlos asked Eikpyrnir.

"_The storms escalate to other already demolished parts of the temple. The Vessel is gone as with one of the two Queens no longer among the living."_

"Well that's good news." Damien pointed out. "It was Maeori right?"

"_Indeed. The White Queen and her father, Archer Kurinthian, are still among the living. I understand the pain you all must be enduring at this moment. Two tainted souls with good hearts fell before the might of the Maestro. We share the common goal now: make sure he does not leave Norway with the elixir. I will help in any way I can, but only this one last time."_

"What's wrong with her?" Damien asked.

"The temple dies, its' spirits die with it. She's fading fast." Cara said with her head down.

"I'm surprised she's lasted this long. Look, since we're on a timetable is it possible for you to move the ship, or help us set it up?" Carlos asked her.

She accepted to deal one last act of kindness before eternally resting in the arms of her god. It was better than living in the aftermath of a cursed temple. She morphed into a ball of golden energy, and hugged the entire foundation of the ship. The sails opened, cobwebs from the steering wheel disappeared, and the armory was organized to its' fullest usage if the humans saw fit to use them. Without a moment too soon, the ship sailed off from the broken harbor and out at sea. The winds were steady and carried the ship forward without any sign of interference.

The undead plagued from every corner where Terrell kept fighting them off. He found himself on his back with blood colored water flowing from all sides. The man was a mess; his body felt violated, used up, exhausted from any newfound adrenaline he found in the arena. When he painfully turned his attention to what was going on behind him, he had gotten an upside down view of the temple's foundation crumbling. Obviously this wasn't new to him, but maybe it was a sign he thought. The nightmares he had as a freedom fighter, the loss of his brothers, and nearly losing sanity from being tortured by Maeori, all were decimated before him. Nothing but solace gave a passing wind of relief in his eyes.

Taking a big sigh, he coughed up some abnormal substance the undead had been spewing. He didn't find it revolting, but invigorating. Somehow he reclaimed one last breath to die as an Amaro instead of a nameless demon. The undead came in from all directions as he was on one knee with a distorted, battered view of his enemies. Still gripping a stone hammer in his hand, the promise he foolishly broke to his brother was finally resurrected.

"My body…it feels different. I can see these tainted souls for who they really are. Families, innocent lives, we all hunger for the same end. Forgive me Cara, Damien…" Terrell said, giving his last words as he stood on his own two feet. "I can see why Daryl came to this place. It feels fitting for a burial ground. Brothers, I do this for you."

The blood circulating every fiber of his physically beaten constitution gave him newfound strength…at a cost he was willing to give for the sake of dying as an Amaro. The undead drew closer and closer towards him; he ran through the raging water beneath his feet to take on as many souls with him as he possibly could. In his mind, there was no morality or right choice in this battlefield. The embryotic sacs were their life force, and had no trouble as he gutted them out with his bare hands. Three chests torn open and sacs ripped out, the blood in him took away his human reasoning.

He continued to resist giving in to the temptation of becoming one of them until after he had taken many undead to their rightful resting place. Blood spatter after blood spatter, their blood wormed its way inside Terrell, rendering him to drop his hammer and act more aggressively with his prey. Pretty soon, he ravaged the sacs out as more of the temple's foundation broke away completely. The rainstorm simulated a tidal wave about 40ft high. Before being taken by the never ending sea, twenty-two souls had found their place in the afterlife. Where would Terrell go when all was said and done? His mind gave no care to such thought.

11


	8. Part VII: Hang on!

Temple of Kurinthian

Part VII: Hang on!

Eikpyrnir reappeared before everyone, panting and clasping to what energy she had left to say her final farewells. She told Cara this was it, she couldn't go beyond the boundaries of the temple. She will finally rest knowing six souls still breathing will take the fight to Wesker, and whatever laid guarding the Sanctum of lost riches and the Vault. Everyone said goodbye and the Stag faded away. It was a seldom moment for Cara, looking up at the temple ruins still crumbling behind as the ship sailed forward. Carlos reminded the others to go down to the armory shipments to see if there were any weapons that were still useable. Ammo and herbs were nil; he missed the days when killing a zombie or a giant crocodile in the city sewers would guarantee an herb, ammo boxes, even keys. He made his way to the bow of the ship and navigated to the trophy room's entrance.

The second level was a dark corridor glimmering with silver warfare the Vikings used on their voyages. Weapons like axes, swords, and spears were just the staples they were able to see. Monica swooned over them; Cara and Damien felt tension lifted from their shoulders after knowing they had a fighting chance against the undead. Kelley readily wanted to try a sword while Ethan quickly reacting to letting her test the weapons out first before considering letting her use one. Monica overheard and saw Kelley was in luck.

She wouldn't have a practical weapon to use if battle lunged at them at sea, but she found a vintage crossbow with over forty arrows inside a sheath. She grabbed them and gave them to her. She wanted to use a sword more because of the violent looking designs each sword had. Monica was on Ethan's side for once and thought about her safety. While they were looking at what weapon spoke to them, Damien grabbed a battle axe and shield and found some armor plates all the way in the back corner. Cara was looking through old armor pieces and maps, barely saying a word or making eye contact with anyone. Damien went over to her to see how she was doing.

"It's not fair is it? Losing good people to a hell hole like this." He told her.

"We all signed up for this hell hole, Damien. At least it's almost over."

"Cara..." He said getting her attention.

"I'll be fine." She said looking up at him and at Monica. "She surprised me. She's like a whole other person when being around Kelley."

"Maybe she's turning over a new leaf. Better late than never." he replied.

"Travers took an interest in her. I've always wondered what went on in his office on those late nights at the base. Monroe thought they were boinking." She chuckled.

"He probably didn't make it either. Just like my grandmother most likely."

"What was that?" Cara asked?

"Nothing, I'm going to check on Carlos and see if we're there yet."

"You got to stay positive, Damien. If she is as strong as you say, she will pull through her struggles. Just like we will."

Phylicia swam under ocean waves with her father until they were far away from the temple. The rain went from sideways motions to blinding showers. She couldn't see anything in front of her; Archer however still retained sharp sight from being in the Vessel so long. He was weak and was slipping away from her grasp. He then saw a floating element that looked to be stripped away from the temple's foundation.

It was big enough for both of them to rest on. He guided her to it and along the way she felt the side of an arm swimming past her. Then she felt a slimy forehead sliding past the ball of her feet. The undead still up and about were leaving the remains and swam out to sea with no sense of direction; nothing she was able to distinguish anyway. When they reached the floating rock she got up first and lifted Archer as they lied next to each other.

Rain drops pressed and flickered against the rock as both were letting the storm carry them away. Phylicia was starting to lose hope; she lost Maeori, felt used by Wesker, failed at every turn campaigning against him and his goal to release the elixir onto the population. She felt that all her efforts were for nothing.

"Not all of your endeavors." Archer brought up. "You set me free, stopped a bloodthirsty harpy from causing further chaos. I…know you've wanted to save her."

"I just wanted her to rest in peace. So much pain back in her day; I couldn't live with that anymore." Phylicia said.

"You have sent her on her way; that's all that matters. Wesker was a fool. I realize now he's not the man he revealed himself to be. The demons of Umbrella have haunted him and the elixir set that horror in stone. He may have imprisoned me once, but even enemies can show remorse."

"Alex always was the conflicted sort. A part of him wanted to be superior, but not in a dictating way like his brother."

"I saw his future believe it or not; his brother Albert. He too gets fed up with a link to his past, and executes a strategy more reckless and blind sighted than anything Umbrella churned out. Someday, karma will catch up to both brothers and see them to their deserved ends."

"Too bad neither of us will be there to see it. Where will the undead go now?" She asked.

"These creatures are affected by the water. They will need fresh elixir to repair any damage they have. Otherwise they will decay and revert back to corpses. My guess it's their choice."

"They have a moral choice to consider?"

Archer looked up and saw a floating object in the distance of the thick rain. It was a ship captained by the six remaining survivors of the temple. Phylicia looked through and saw the same thing; Carlos especially. She told him that was where they needed to go. She wanted to form an alliance with them knowing it wasn't going to be easy. Archer was hesitant about this, but at this point he was willing to take a chance.

He didn't feel compelled to kill a bunch of humans or turn them into his twisted puppets like what Wesker had done. Suddenly, while the undead swam under them a huge underwater creature headed towards them. However, it wasn't Blodbad. Morpheus rose and saw Phylicia and Archer as people in desperate need of help. She saw it in his eyes; Morpheus wanted an end to everything around them as much as they did. He leveled his head down to Phylicia's level. As she moved closer to pet him, Archer was holding his breath, telling her to be careful. The eel's head felt smooth with a sense of purpose in every fiber of his being. She told Archer it was okay for them to ride him. They got on and held each other tightly as she spoke in Norwegian to Morpheus to take them to the ship. Their short journey began.

Luckily for Carlos there was some roof covering him while guiding the ship on dangerous waters. Waves smacked against the bottom of the vessel yet sailing felt surprisingly comfortable to him. It was a nice change of pace from the dark environments and shooting down undead that kept getting back up no matter how many head shots he performed. Damien reached the main deck to join him.

"Nice getup..." Carlos said to Damien wearing Viking armor plates. "You look ready for battle."

"Not really." He said standing next Carlos. "I'm scared, Carlos. Everything I've done in that temple up to getting on this ship has been pure luck. In reality, I would've been torn to shreds by a trap or a zombie, or even killed by Alex. He let me live."

"This world isn't built on solid rules, amigo. It's times like this make me wonder what drives science into making viral weaponry. I've never been to Raccoon City before the T-Virus outbreak. Innocent people were running from zombies, soldiers getting eaten alive, seeing your best friend commit suicide just so you can keep fighting. I'm old Damien; this handsome face and velvet voice doesn't sell it, but fighting back creatures mankind hardly fathoms takes it out of you."

"You're telling me. I felt like I didn't sleep for days. If I wasn't so intent on staying alive I'd have passed out way before Cara and I met you."

"It's easy to forget you're a kid sometimes. It's bad enough adults have to deal with situations like these. Now the young ones are fighting against Umbrella's shadow. Guess in a way we asked for this." Carlos said.

"What do you mean?"

"Where do I begin? Philosophy isn't my strong point. In a nutshell, we as humans are always going out in the world, trying to find something beyond the initial barriers of society. We find ways to improve ourselves daily, only we _think_ we are making progress as a species. Then the Umbrella Corporation came along and gave us that shred of an edge to make progress all worth it. Turned out it was run by a bunch of nut jobs with a God complex, and they released their demons onto us. Shows just how intelligent we are. We believed in something that was too good to be right."

"My grandmother told me about the Raccoon City incident. She had news clippings and a magazine about a pharmaceutical entity for the 21st century. I thought she was a nut job too. I was never there so why should I care about a city full of strangers? Looking back on it I…don't want her to die."

"You're not going to die here, Damien." Carlos said putting his hand on his shoulder. "You guys made it this far. Together we won't let Alex get away. I just hope the White Queen is alive out there."

Carlos's radio went off on the back of his pants. All this time he had forgotten about it; even said in reality a radio in a rainstorm wouldn't work without a proper frequency. However, there was a distorted voice trying to break through and contact him. After a few tries, the frequency cleared as he made his way to the center of the ship. Damien took over at the wheel while getting into contact with his evacuation friend.

"Conklin, that you?" Carlos said on his radio.

_"Finally! You left your map on the plane, my friend. How the hell are you holding?"_

"It's good to hear your voice, _aye meu deus._ I'm on trade ship with six other survivors heading for the trophy room. I'm going to need you to pick us up."

_"We're gassing the choppers for evac. How long is it going to take for you to find the Vault?"_

"Not long if we really push. Conklin listen, about the Kurinthian Queens..."

_"Let me guess. You worked your Oliveira charm and they went bat shit crazy on each other?"_

"Just for that, you're buying your own beer. The Red Queen is dead. I don't know where the other one went. If I'm right though, the White Queen may be the lost daughter of Archer Kurinthian."

_"I see. You and the others stay the course. We'll be there soon."_

Weird thing was the storm from where Carlos and the others were was an isolated event. Every other part of Norway seemed dry on their fly over. It was going to take some time to maneuver around the storm once they got to the location. The conversation ended with Conklin saying he was glad Carlos was okay and that he didn't get himself killed. He reattached his radio to his side and felt the boat shaking a bit. He called out to Damien to see if he saw anything unusual. At first he said no, but soon stopping himself and telling him to get back to the wheel. Damien pointed at the water and saw floating bodies; bodies that moved slow and posed no threat to the ship's hull; another weird thing Carlos thought. The elixir filled undead should have been able to snuff out human targets on a moving vessel at sea. What was making them weak he thought?

In the room of priceless cargo, Cara tried on some armor that was of Valkyrie origin. There weren't a lot of options of armor pieces; she kept her clothes on while wearing a belt that carried a weapon called a glaive. She liked the craftsmanship yet paid no further attention to its uses for more than a few seconds. She strapped the belt onto her chest and looked out the window as the storm raged on. Monica's hand pressed on her shoulder and she was startled. She pulled away and asked if she was alright. Cara paid her no mind either; however Monica stood next to her and wanted to make amends for any grief she may have given her.

"This is it. We're out of that goddamn temple finally." She said as Cara ignored her. "Cara I…I'm sorry about the way I've been acting. I've always put you and the other group members in crappy spirits. Being in Norway has taught me that the life behind bars is nothing compared to out here. You've really stepped up; I respect that now. If it weren't for you, Ethan, Kelley and I wouldn't have gotten out of that Vessel area in one piece. In my days, not a lot of girls have had the luxury in being strong and independent without a walking pile driver telling them otherwise. I'll shut up now." She said before Cara stopped her.

"What are our chances?" Cara asked.

"I should be asking you. You're the one who experienced these ugly pricks in Raccoon City."

"I didn't see much, but seeing my aunt get eaten alive by a zombie was enough. Maybe with these weapons we'll have a fighting chance."

"My father was a medic, you know? I was thirteen when he was stationed with a squad of eight when Raccoon City was infected. When the place got nuked all to hell I couldn't shake it off. I acted out in ways I didn't think possible. I went psychotic in jail. Our records aren't getting cleared are they?"

"Travers is dead." Cara replied with somewhat regret. "The Red Queen killed him."

"She did huh? Well, in some ways he brought that on himself. If I live through this, I'll live out the rest of my sentence." Monica promised herself looking at Ethan and Kelley. "I got to set a good example for once. Let's bury the hatchet right now." She said extending her hand to Cara, partners?"

Cara was a little shocked with the way she was opening up to her. Maybe it was because she was intending to die, and wanted to set things right without any guilt in her passing. Regardless of the reason, she showed a little smile and shook on burying the hatchet for the sake of their survival. Kelley called both of them over to see how good she was getting with the crossbow. Ethan was teaching her to shoot for the head at an old dummy.

Cara broke the ice with them for the first time since she didn't really get to know them when Eikpyrnir brought them back to the others. She introduced herself and asked how Monica was treating them. Kelley adored her, planned for their escape from the prison cells and distracting the undead with just an old hammer. Monica mentioned she didn't like to brag. Then Ethan told her how grateful he was to be still breathing after everything that happened. Soon after, he apologized for the loss of Monroe and Terrell; he would have liked to have met them he said. Cara was determined to fight for their losses; whatever it was going to take. The ship suddenly took a hit that almost knocked everyone in the armory to the side. Ethan looked out one of the windows and caught a quick glimpse of a monstrous tail swimming past them.

Footsteps were heard up top. Carlos and Damien opened the door to the armory and told them to prepare for an attack. As they went back up to the front of the ship they all looked below and saw one of the sea monsters that escaped from their aquarium prisons. It emerged as the eel, Morpheus with two distinct figures riding it. It looked to be Venezia and her father as he was not in high spirits. She shouted at them for help and Carlos recognized Venezia by her voice. He told Monica to grab some rope and everyone held onto it to pull them up. Once on the ship, Carlos helped her off the ground while the others couldn't bare the stench from Archer; all except Monica. Venezia brought up it was her father and that she freed him from his vessel.

"It's ok, don't be alarmed! I freed him from the Vessel. This is my father." Phylicia said.

"Is he still alive?" Ethan asked her.

"Let's get them inside! Damien, Monica, you got Archer. I got Phylicia." Carlos replied.

"Thank you." She said exhaustingly.

The established oceans around the temple and beyond were rising. Blinding rain still took precedence, but that didn't stop Alex from reaching the Vault. Luckily it was located separately from the temple so no rain affected its' usage. The vault's confines were located in one of two joint pillars. Both had three bridges connecting to one another. Alex took a shortcut and found a small opening for him to squeeze through. Once he got inside, not only was he drenched, but also deeply wounded. Half his body was without human tissue; his entire skeleton was encased in stone with dark purple veins surging with elixir all around. He limped his way down some dark corridors with a few undead present looking to him with humility. As he got to the vault he saw his Nemesis guard asleep yet stood as if ready for battle. He got its' attention and opened the vault for him leading to the elixir.

"Steng døren bak meg." He ordered. "Vent på mitt ord å åpne det igjen."

(Close the door behind me. Wait for my word to open it again.)

Nemesis closed the vault's door soon after, guarding it from the inevitable scrimmage he would soon face. While in the Vault, he limped up the stairway and towards the edge of the platform overlooking the elixir below. Suddenly, a painful shock sent his body backwards as he screamed helplessly for relief to kick in. A minute or so later, the background noise went mute and a screeching sound scraped the inside of his head. Images and voices hung on his ears as if the people causing them were right in front of him.

One voice came from Spencer, spewing words of inferiority to Alex as if he didn't have the spine to his ambition through, while other times proclaimed him a conniving bastard for stealing his Progenitor research. Flashes of different mutations fast forwarded violently in his mind; he resisted the best he could and tried calming his senses. But for some reason the elixir in him wouldn't let it, and one flashback showed him why. As a child he was one out of thirteen children to successfully adapt to the Progenitor Virus; it made him superior in virtually every way possible. However, when he saw the bitterness and the stand offish actions Spencer had when Albert supposedly died in Raccoon City, he used his newfound talents to help him carry on Umbrella's work.

Then his bitterness carried over to how Alex handled things in Spencer's stead. On the eve when he decided to steal his research and escape into the night, he found paperwork in one of the underground labs at the estate, explaining the side effects of Progenitor. Though it made him superior in mind, body, and soul, it also made him mentally deficient. Not from an intelligence standpoint, but psychologically out of control. Superiority came with a price; something Spencer chose not to tell his two best test subjects.

For years, Alex resisted urges to make variations of the Progenitor Virus or any virus that came after to avoid further outbreaks like the T-Virus did. When he drank from the elixir it made him a whole new person; still superior without the psychological screw up, but the old virus was still inside him, uprooting the elixir at every turn. In his downtime in the temple, he would meditate to turn his thoughts into one cohesive vision, and maybe that was the problem he thought. Years of feeling left out and not living up to the legacy Spencer worked towards. Not to mention his brother's life was still in question. To his luck, he got one full image showing a symbol of the future. It showed a still image of Spencer in a wheelchair with IV tubes in his head, and a dark figure looking out of the windows in his study. Another image came up closer; the death of Spencer at the hand of Albert Wesker himself.

"_The right to be god…that right is now mine."_

The voice of Albert eclipsed all others and made Alex's eyes darkened. All that revealed afterwards was him confronting Albert face-to-face.

"_Hello Alex. I see you have worked tirelessly to achieve what Spencer failed to uphold. The right to be God; that right belongs to us brother. Raccoon City was merely a hell for those lucky enough to escape."_

"_How can you still be alive?"_

"_It matters little. The future treads closer, Alex. The world reeks of viral desperation, and its' inhabitants suffer from Umbrella's impending shadow. Together we can finally cast out the demons of the past, and take our rightful place as Gods in a new world order._

"_You reek of Tyrant, Progenitor, and a new strain I don't recognize. What happened to you?"_

"_I have evolved. With your elixir and my plans we shall make the world tremble."_

"_Do you not hear yourself? Humanity shouldn't have to suffer for one corporation. It shouldn't have to suffer under the heels of arrogance. I've seen the future, Albert. The world descends into viral influx; not just one city, everywhere. My elixir will help those when the time comes. It's funny; a key player from your past kills you in a landscape filled with molten lava. Your own son won't even avenge you. No one will remember you when you're gone."_

_"Nevertheless, my offer stands. Bring me a sample of your toiled efforts. We can start fresh; as brothers."_

The spirit of Albert held out his hand to Alex as a way of helping from the mental distress he was going through at that moment. Alex stood up and stared him right in the eyes, and then, he fell sideways off the platform and into the elixir itself. Barely leaving a splash behind, his body remained in stasis as the thickness of the elixir surged through every crevice in his body, rejuvenating him. He has seen who will make it to the Vault and what the outcome for the overall journey will be, but if such a future was going to pass soon, he wanted to make the survivors work for it.

Closing his eyes and looking to the outside where the storm still brewed, he saw endless dead bodies at sea that were once fueled with the elixir. At first he didn't understand it, but he also sensed a ship making its way to the Sanctum of Lost Riches. Pooling all of his energy together, he awakened the elixir in every single undead out there. They all glowed red and blue; even the great piranha, Blodbad was ready to indulge in human meat. The elixir's fumes rose up like a hail of bloody mist into the roof of the vault and outside.

The sky and sea turned burgundy as over a hundred undead raised their heads from the water. Carlos, Phylicia and the others got into their respected posts to prepare for the assault. Ethan took a few spears as he manned the steering wheel with Carlos covering him. Monica helped Kelley up to the crow's nest of the ship with arrows dipped in poison and ready to fire. The ship rocked and felt unsteady; Monica and Cara had the back of the ship covered while Damien and Carlos covered the center with axes and spears in hand. Carlos had an idea with the fifteen spears he procured from the armory.

Before the battle began, Phylicia made sure her father was secured in the armory where no undead would get to him. He was still drained from putting all the zombies in his domain in their rightful resting places. The undead surrounded the ship; so much so if anyone looked down they would scream by their numbers. They spanned for about a mile from where the temple used to be. Some started to climb on the ship and Kelley set her sights on a solid headshot from where she was. One arrow fired away and sent the unlucky zombie back into the water.

Soon both sides of the ship had undead climbing to the top. Carlos lunge a spear to gain a kill on his side. Suddenly, a dozen jumped on board in a blink of an eye. Kelley shot another in the head, Damien chopped off the head of another, and before they knew it an all-out Royale in who was going to survive commenced. Ethan tried his best not to look at what was going on behind and focused on keeping the ship from tipping over. Three zombies jumped on his side and bum rushed him away from the wheel; he took a sword and drove it into one of them, causing its' chest cavity to open.

It revealed a glowing embryotic sac. He took his sword and shoved the other two zombies that were getting on top of him, and drove it into the sac leaving red fluids popping, and embracing the sword's steel. Soon after, the zombie collapsed and didn't get back up after dealing the same thing with the other zombies. The ship was taking a wrong turn so Ethan reacted and got back on course. Monica and Cara were fending for themselves with Phylicia assisting Carlos not too far from them.

She made it clear to them the only way to finish them off is puncturing or ripping out the sacs thus rendering them corpses again. Monica reverted to her primal side and was jumping on the undead left and right, chopping off heads and twisting necks as she tossed some of their bodies overboard. Two overweight zombies got on board and confronted Cara as they saw a tasty morsel to be consumed. She slid under one and repeatedly impaled his back with an axe until the second zombie grabbed her and tossed her to another portion of the ship. Monica tore open a zombie's exterior and had the sac showing in all its' glowing glory.

She struggled to rip it out with her own hands. She was feeling the ten pounds of the sac taking a toll on her arms. Another group came hurdling towards and she jumped out of the way with sac plowing her with blood and guts. She looked up as Cara was dealing with the overweight types. She ran up to the damaged one and sliced off one of its arms before it reached Cara. Cara then helped along by taking a spear and driving it into its chest, following his head with endless amounts of stabbing until the rotted brain became nothing but mush. Monica tore the chest open with her axe on the other zombie but he head butted her, throwing her balance off.

Cara pulled the spear out, and with gusts of wind preventing her from making a projectile shot she got in close and threw the spear into the zombie's stomach. It killed him in an instant as a small portion of the ship was broken as he fell to his death. From there, the ship didn't feel so lopsided. Damien was holding his own for the time being; he managed to strike out four zombies with embryos ripped out and Phylicia helping him. But then he wanted to try something reckless. The ship's sails were held together by old rope; one was hanging loose and he wanted to try to kick one off the ship.

For some odd reason, he felt good like his body and mind wanted all this fighting to happen. It was the outcome he was facing after living a sheltered life back in Denver. Making his way to the rope, the ship suddenly makes a complete halt. Ethan used all his strength to turn the wheel in both directions, but it didn't budge one bit. Another zombie came up behind him and lifted him off the ground by his neck. Phylicia took action and extended her nails as they pierced into its sac with precision. She pulled the zombie away from him and tore it in half. As the others continued defending themselves, Carlos ran up to the wheel and helped Ethan back on his feet.

"I'm becoming too much of a burden am I?" Ethan asked in pain.

"You're doing fine." He replied. "Did we hit a rock or something?"

"I don't know. I didn't look overboard."

Looking over the ship, they had to narrow their eyes a great deal with the thick red mist flowing around them. Something was holding the ship back alright, but it wasn't a rock sticking out of the ground. For a brief time the undead felt they were gaining the upper hand following by a dozen gruesome deaths at the hands of the human survivors. The undead in the water still glowed, and pretty soon the ones who were on board stopped attacking. Monica was raring for some more carnage; Phylicia stopped her for a minute to listen to the wind.

Nobody heard a peep, not even the sound of water hitting the ship. Out of nowhere, Blodbad leaped out of the water and over the ship, crashing to the other side and leaving a massive wave impacting the upper deck. Bodies piled on and everyone was uneasy. Carlos lifted mutilated zombies off of him as he asked if everyone was alright. Background noise still couldn't be heard, but they were able to hear each other. Monica called out to Kelley with fear of her safety.

"Kelley, talk to me!"

"I'm alright up here." Kelley replied waving her left arm. "Was that a piranha that just jumped over us?"

Monica sighed with relief. Ethan kept turning the wheel for the ship to go; suddenly the gusting winds ceased and they were stranded in the middle of the sea. Blodbad made another pass, this time for some human meat. That was when Morpheus rose from the other side and knocked Blodbad away. The water became electrified for a solid minute until both sea creatures were tearing into each other. Phylicia had a look of pride on her face.

"That's my eel." She said with a smile.

"All this time I thought both creatures belonged to Maeori." Carlos told her.

"They did. When I killed her, Blodbad was furious. He consumed as many undead as he can sink his teeth into, but Morpheus felt gratitude in the matter. Gratitude for me; he and I share the pain Alex has brought upon us."

"He won't touch you." Carlos assured her. "I'll make sure he doesn't."

"I am grateful. You know, for a time Alex wanted to rid the world in what his brother and his surrogate father had wrought. The elixir was his only ticket; his way of showing that corporations don't hold the power to infect thousands of innocents in a single night. Raccoon City was quite a city wasn't it? I've never had the privilege to go there."

"It was something. Apart from all the zombies and a joker smiling behemoth chasing you to the ends of the Earth. It's gone now, all thanks to Umbrella."

"I see you have lost friends there." Phylicia said looking at his eyes.

"Some were killed by a monster in human form." Carlos replied with despair in his voice.

Morpheus was gaining ground as Blodbad consumed undead to keep his strength up. Everyone on the ship was due for a clash of the sea monsters. Damien felt they could win the sea battle and get to the trophy room in no time. Cara and Monica were indifferent about pulling embryos out of rotting bodies, with Monica getting off on that fact and waiting to throw some exquisite hurt on those who were trying to kill her. Ethan made one more attempt on maneuvering the ship and it finally budged with the zombies holding it out of commission.

He called Carlos over to help him get back on course. The others got to work in throwing the dead weight overboard and get to the Sanctum while they still had time. Phylicia felt something was off about her father resting in the armory. She ran down and saw him locked up in old chains and heavy sweat running down his face like he was in pain or something. As she was about to break the chains Archer stopped her and told her to leave them.

His brain was frying with two voices bearing down on him. He shared a connection to Alex's thoughts, but at this moment he felt those thoughts became multiple. One was about preventing any human from reaching the elixir, the other was combating such thoughts and claimed Alex was challenging the humans to see if they were strong enough to reach the Vault. In some part of Alex, he respected Terrell when he rose against Maeori, and finished off his brother after finding out he was a Kranner-Wolf. Archer had no idea what Alex's true voice was, but he had an idea what the cause of the dual personalities. Phylicia comforted him as he was mentally figuring out the distinctions between them. Back on top bodies were still being thrown into the sea. Kelley slowly made her way back down to see how Ethan was holding up and wanted a chance to steer the ship herself. They were a mile away from the falling out of the two sea monsters, getting ever closer to their goal.

Layers of a conflicted mind, Alex was losing it in both mind and body control. It has been a long time since his flesh had been hugged by the enticing elixir. It felt invigorating and painful at the same time. With Albert's voice avoided when he jumped into the elixir, Spencer's voice was still present, speaking through the vibrations of its nectar and haunting his mind with words of how he turned his back on where he came from as well as his place. The more Alex had the urge to block it out, the tone grew louder and more endearing.

"_You have stung my aching heart with your compassionate slights. You were like a son to me. I released you from that stuffed prison, gave you new life to join my side in our new world."_

"_Albert was always your favorite. I was just a sideshow whenever you got bored."_

"_I thought after all these years you would understand. The path to god only lies in one; I sought to make three. This world is decadent, ruined by the shrouds of Umbrella's labors. This world needs order by men who can deliver such a feat. But it matters no longer because you are unworthy..."_

Spencer's voice went from tolerable vibrations to throbbing headaches while in the elixir. The Progenitor in him was never going to stop. He has been behind the shadows of both Spencer and Albert for years, even when he himself had bested both of them in going to Norway. Whatever experiments they were to cook up in the future, they would be nothing but carbon copies only to arrive at the same conclusion when meeting death. Alex swam deeper down the elixir's well and found the source of getting the Progenitor Virus out of him forever.

Deep down lied a crystal; it was kept away from text of Norse Mythology. The seven Architects considered the Valhallan Elixir to be their sacred grail as the epitome inside of a greater temple, but also a curse for those who seek the temple's secrets. Alex left the Spencer estate as a resourceful, yet unsure man of what he was about to find in Norway. It had taken him years to get the Architects' spirits on his side, and so their divine power relied on one great crystal that was absolute enough to rid the past of a human life, and start anew as an immortal. As he got closer and closer, Spencer and Albert's voices simulated like a hurricane, pulling him away from the crystal and a prisoner of the mind still. That was when the true reality hit him; he was on verge on losing his sanity when it became clear.

Albert was the favorite of the Wesker children, and so the Progenitor in his DNA is potent and irreplaceable no matter what new virus he tried. The Progenitor in him was merely white noise that when listened closely, he could hear back to that one time when Spencer promised the both of them they would aspire to greatness. He started laughing through all the mental distress bestowed upon him. Spencer's voice rose again, demanding the reason why laughter endured.

"_You think your intelligence outweighs the great Einstein. But with all your bitterness and pointless efforts to achieve godhood, you've forgotten what it means to be a father. Albert didn't care, being a brainwashed dog he was. I've only seen one end for you. If you can hear me, one disciple impales the teacher. You will not expect it, and you will show no hatred when it's delivered, just complete failure. The right…to be a god should be in the hands to empower all others; not rule over them. That is what Umbrella failed to realize. With all their failed experiments and faulty outbreaks, they have driven themselves into oblivion. After tonight, your voices will hold no weight over me."_

He landed himself right in front of the elixir's crystal. To the Architects, it was known as Odin's Jewel. It has the ability to purify any tainted soul and make them an immortal being. But even a reward such as this was halted by a female Architect who constructed the Vault. Her voice came into light to deliver Alex an update on all he has done to the temple. The storm brewing outside was indeed the dire punishment for those who intrude the temple with improper cause. She delved into Alex's mind and said his sins were terrible; the life of a human being turned beast. He defiled graves of 20,000 souls for an experiment that has deemed all of them mortal still, enslaving two women against their will and become queens in the process. It was no secret he was losing his humanity with every soul rippling decision.

However, with the temple underwater and human survivors overcoming odds that would've killed them the second they entered the gardens, the Architects had no choice but to make one last decision. It was a choice given to Alex to make that would have no way in making a second time. If he were to inhabit the jewel, his tale ends; he would wake up in the life he had before and have violent flashbacks of his dealings haunt him for the rest of his days. If he were to refuse its power, he would stay trapped in the Vault, and he would be forced to give the jewel to someone more deserving of it, someone who knew the elixir's power better than he did.

"_You were nothing before I found you. Your potential is wasted, and you have forsaken everything what Progenitor can really do. You have sealed your fate."_ Spencer concluded before fading.

"_And soon you will be met with yours. I refuse!"_

The elixir rose up and his eyes were clouded. Next thing he knew, he woke up on the platform with the jewel elevated in the center. His hearing went back to normal. As he got up he felt there was still work to be done; the humans were drawing closer and closer to the Sanctum. Even though Alex refused the power out of selflessness, he still felt he owe it to them for the challenge at sea to continue. He sat Indian style on the platform and contacted Blodbad. Both he and Morpheus were still fighting; their strengths were too evenly matched but Blodbad was starting to feel fatigue plaguing his monstrous gills and teeth. Alex spoke to him in the Norwegian tongue.

"_Blodbad av det dype, forlate Morpheus til hans å liding."_ He spoke telepathically. _"Jag det andre. Forlate ingen stå."_

(Carnage of the deep, leave Morpheus to his suffering. Hunt the others. Leave none standing.)

In the armory, Archer felt the extra voices fleeing away from his mind as well as Alex's. Much to his surprise, he told Phylicia Alex refused the true power of the elixir, and was back on solid ground meditating the fight that was to commence. Phylicia showed shock on her face but with having a second thought about the things that had happened over the past few days she knew he wouldn't have been able to withstand its power. That was why he had cut himself from the other dire events in the temple, trying to break through the jewel's contents to gain a better understanding. The Progenitor Virus in him kept him from understanding.

"He swam deep in the well. I could still feel the after effects of his headaches. We may still have a chance." Archer told her.

"We're close. Not too far now." Phylicia replied tending to him.

Damien opened the armory's door to warn them Blodbad was heading for their ship. When they got back on board Blodbad jumped over the bow of the ship this time, bellowing a war cry to the motionless undead that entreated them to wake up and keep fighting the others. One zombie grabbed Damien and lifted him in the air as if it was about to feast on his flesh. He head butted the zombie and made the quick observation that it was not a good idea.

The zombie got back up and made its way with rage in its eyes. Kelley fired another poison arrow at its head and once Damien got his senses back, he used his axe to open the chest cavity. Another five zombies gathered behind him and he chopped one's head off behind him as Kelley provided cover. He ripped out its embryotic sac and got some distance away from the others. Phylicia and Archer split up to deal with the undead; Archer was up to the task and felt the elixir's power hastening his steps to bring the conflict to an end. He created a small hurricane which ascended six zombies and ripped the life forces out of their bodies, squeezing the life out of the sacs soon after. He made short work of the others when he pushed some more out of his way and into the ocean.

Phylicia used one of her claws to bring forth three skewered zombies and sliced them in half. She was frantically looking for Morpheus to join in. He was nowhere to be seen. Cara and Monica were fighting off a fair number of them on the center of the ship until Monica slipped and was sent flying towards the crow's nest. At one point she felt like giving up, but she grasped her sword tightly and forced herself to keep going. Cara didn't see who bested her until she jumped down with glaive in hand to deal with him. As she was about to strike, the zombie held the blade mid-way and roared at her. Her eyes widened when she was introduced to a familiar face. Monica got up and attempted to strike him from behind. Cara tried to stop her but the zombie stayed her hand as well. They stood in the presence of none other than Terrell himself.

"Cara..." Terrell said in a growling tone and looking behind him. "M-Monica. Get away from...me!"

"Holy shit..." Monica said to herself.

"It can't be. Terrell it's us. You recognize us!" Cara said.

Terrell in undead form tossed two ladies away from their weapons and at a moderate distance away from him. Cara tried to reason with him, get him to recognize what was happening. Carlos, Ethan and the others were too distracted in fighting off zombies that it was just the three of them. He struggled with each step towards Cara; he begged her to kill him at all costs. She kept refusing.

From Monica's perspective she was waiting on Cara to make a move, saying he was beyond help and didn't know how he got on the ship in the first place. Monica picked up her weapon and gripped it tightly knowing she was going to kill off Terrell once and for all. "I have to die...I'm sorry." He told Cara with blue tears running down his botched face. Her eyes and mind were confused by these things. The environment around them was still the same, but her sight on Terrell was different.

She still saw him as a human; a human without a scratch on him but didn't look dead. She became so numb of his presence that every muscle in her arms couldn't move a single inch. Monica swung her axe at him and he grabbed the blade part, roaring with a bloodthirsty expression. She kicked him in the groin and got punched in the jaw soon after, leaving her turned around. He then slashed her back and as she struck back he restrained her left fist.

She uppercut him and caused him to lose the axe. As she dropped on the ground to get it back Terrell kneed her in the face, sending her body backwards against the sharp, wooden foundations of the ship. Blood from her back seeped through the cracks and into the armory as Terrell held her down. Still resisting the urge to kill her, he begged forgiveness if his actions took a turn for the unexpected. Rain ensued and plowed on top of them. Cara somehow got the feeling back in her arms and her vision cleared all of a sudden. She picked up her glaive and moved through the fight around her. As she moved, flashbacks of how her and Terrell first knew each other in Venezuela, watching each other's back during training sessions. They were friends for too short a time.

"_You're going to do great things, Cara. A survivor of Raccoon City does not mean the end of your existence. We all do what we must to prevent catastrophes like that from happening again. It is time we stop acting like the victims of our misfortunes, even me. We will all live through Norway."_

"_And if we don't?" _

"_Sometimes hope is the best remedy for doubt. Don't worry Cara. Travers trained us enough. Whatever happens, our friendship will always remain…"_

_"I got your back. You know that right?"_

_"We are a team. We are going to make it."_

Standing in front of him, she raised the glaive and screamed at the top of her lungs as she struck him down the middle, and sliced the embryotic sac inside his chest. With this act, she was thrown back towards the edge of the ship with a piece of its foundation broken off. She was hanging on a ledge and Monica slid to her and grabbed her hand before she slipped off. She pulled Cara back on and both held onto each other.

"For a sec, I thought you were going to let him tear me to shreds." Monica told her.

"I had to. I had no choice, Monica." Cara said sniffling.

"I know. He's at peace now. We're going to give that Wesker a hell he won't see coming."

They went back down to the armory to take refuge from the bloody rain storm to catch their breaths. Sitting on the side of the ship, Monica decided to stop walking and have them take a break. The ship suddenly shifted upward when a wave was passing under them and felt a drop back on course like a roller coaster going down a steep rail.

"Woo, you look a serial killer." Monica chuckled, sitting next to Cara.

"It could be worse. We can look like those things out there." She replied squeezing the water out of her hair. "Jesus Christ, he couldn't even die a warrior's death."

"I'd hate to see what he looked like after they tore into his body. How is it the undead still look dead with elixir inside of them, but Terrell looked like a 204lb pissed off pile driver?"

"Raccoon City." Cara replied. "It always goes back to that dreaded night when hell decided to relocate. From what I remember, the T-Virus re-animates dead cells after the body's been limp for a while. I guess the elixir not only re-animates cells, it also makes skin tissue whole again. God, I still can't put it together."

"How can we put any of this together?" Monica agreed. "If I get out of here, I'm getting laid by the Bambino twins."

"What?" Cara asked.

"Let's just say I've turned bi inside. This one girl Julie..."

"I think I'm ready to get back at it now." Cara said slowly standing up holding her glaive.

"Oh don't be like that. We girlfriends now, emphasis on "friend" of course." She said with awkward silence following after.

"Not a word of this to anyone?"

"It's like we've been friends for years."

Morpheus finally caught up with the ship thanks to Phylicia's way of calling out to him. He was scarred in some places but still fit to help them fight. She told Carlos she was going to ride him out to take Blodbad head on. Carlos had about eight spears left and wanted to use them in taking out the piranha for all. Before she jumped on his back, Carlos grabbed her arm and wished her good luck.

Her hand grasped his wrist and smiled that she was going to pull through, guiding Morpheus soon after. As Ethan was having better luck moving the ship he saw two distinct structures through the red rain. Suddenly, one zombie jumped at him and both were trying to get away from each other. Ethan gained the advantage when Kelley made another head shot. He then picked up his sword and stabbed the undead, thereby ending its life force.

Archer and Carlos joined him on the front deck and told them they were getting close. Then another impact sent the ship nearly side-ways, driving Archer to go see what was going on. The undead were getting ruthless he told himself; no longer were they trying to keep the ship from moving any further. This time they had enough ravenous hunger to rip its wooden planks out from the side and bottom. The ones who were on deck were turning the tide as well.

Damien and Monica were getting tossed and beaten with their weapons becoming too far for them to reach. Cara was chopping heads off left and right and piercing their embryotic sacs, but the more they came the more they were fighting a losing battle. The ship took another hit which caused Kelley to hang off the ledge of the crow's nest. She screamed for help as each of her fingers ceased to grip the ledge. "Hang on!" Monica told her, and soon she fell off screaming. One undead grabbed Monica and shoved her out of the way; luckily Carlos managed to catch her in time. He asked if she was okay and Monica got to them and thanked him. Both hugged and were glad she didn't fall to her death. Carlos got up and looked to see where Archer went; suddenly the ship didn't flow heavily as much.

Archer jumped on Morpheus and implored Phylicia to keep his movements steady. He closed his eyes and tapped into the infected minds of every single zombie clawing the ship bare. A few seconds later, about seventeen to twenty-eight undead exploded one after the other, leaving their embryos exposed. Archer raised his arms and Blodbad swam under Morpheus and flipped all three over into the ocean. When Phylicia and Archer ascended to the surface, she witnessed something horrible happening to Morpheus. Blodbad contained long, slanted horns and one penetrated the middle of the un-savaged eel. Both hauled back to the ship when the two dozen zombies Archer just killed re-assimilated their bodies. Their eyes and muscles rippled and riddled with determination to finish them off. Anger in her heart, she unleashed the blades from her nails and finished her father's job by taking their embryos and in one great slash, sliced each one in half before they returned true to form.

"You did well." He praised her. "Come on, we got to get back on board."

"Dad..." she called looking to the distance behind them.

The temple was a disheveled, watery grave spawned out another legion of undead, and were on their way to take the ship down to the ocean deep. Swimming wasn't getting them any closer so Archer grabbed onto Phylicia as they used the pressure under their feet and suspended them up in the air. They landed right for the ship's center. Everyone saw them together and stood by their side. Despite Blodbad's sneaky tactic to take Morpheus out with just a horn, the electricity from the eel's body sent the beast in stasis mode. His mouth was open, leaving it exposed for Carlos to make his move. The ship was within good throwing distance so he picked up one spear and aimed at its mouth. He lunged it and the spear went deep past the piranha's throat.

"Down she goes...I hope." Carlos said

"Did you get him?" Damien asked him.

"Nice throw." Monica said.

"Couldn't have done it better myself. Really, I couldn't." Ethan pointed out.

The electricity from Morpheus started to fade. Blodbad leaped in the air towards the ship and sent the eel to his eternal resting place. If that wasn't bad enough, he threw up the spear and used its snake-like tongue to throw it back at Carlos. They jumped out of the way while he kicked himself thinking it would work the first time. It worked for Leon when he went up against the Del Lagos monster in Spain he said. Phylicia ran to the other side of the ship to see how much they had before a second wave of undead showed up. Archer made it clear they had to move fast. Blodbad was standing between them and the Sanctum; that was when Carlos came up with an idea.

"Archer, can you get me on the back of Blodbad?" He asked grabbing another spear.

"I can but it's too risky. The thorns on his back doesn't leave much room for scales."

"What choice do we have?" Carlos asked.

"He's right. We'll take him down together." Phylicia told him before jumping into the water.

Her swift action took everyone by surprise when she swam deep to go after Blodbad. Descending further down into the hidden depths in what used to be solid ground for tourists to check out the temple, she sensed his presence and readied herself for a ride. Surrounded by freezing rain water and blazing red, she felt a pinch on her right shoulder and grabbed one of the horns as Blodbad swam back to the surface. With both up in the air, she had a good six seconds to act fast. She detached one of her nails and sawed his biggest bone until she reached the middle. They went under once more and she kept cutting and cutting.

Blodbad twirled and violently spun around to get her off but she was way too devoted to see him dead. Suddenly, the horn broke off and she held it tightly as both made another trip to the surface. Another eight seconds to act she took the horn and drove it into one of its eyes, pulled it out and sent it through its head, driving it towards the ship. She managed to steer him away and made her way to its mouth. Blodbad opened wide and was about to consume when she placed the horn on the roof of its mouth, preventing it from closing completely.

She then dropped inside his massive lower jaw and grabbed his snake-like tongue with one hand, trying to rip it apart as it frantically made its way to crash into the ship. As it reached closer and closer, his tongue slowly ripped off. Gushes of blood sprayed out and she finally ripped it off completely. Carlos saw the dark blood hovering over the already red ocean. He squinted further and saw Phylicia on top of Blodbad and picked up another spear to throw. She screamed out to make the final blow count; with one last effort in his arm he tossed the spear and it landed directly in his throat. Blodbad spiraled sideways away from the ship, leaving Phylicia to tangle with it as everyone was in for a rude awakening.

"EVERYONE HOLD ON TO SOMETHING!" Ethan shouted as the ship tipped over a waterfall under a tall structure.

The ship took a tipsy turn as it sailed inside one of the two main structures, and introduced a waterfall to the mix. In a vat of darkness and painful screams from every human survivor, the ship's body tumbled and broke as each wave tore it apart. By the time they it made it to the bottom of an underground spring, the sound of being underwater and nothing else knocked out everyone. They finally broke through.


	9. Part VIII: An inescapable destiny

Temple of Kurinthian

Part IX: An inescapable destiny

Alex woke up from his meditation in a cold sweat with his heart filled with shock and regret. Blodbad and Morpheus were dead; he couldn't even sense Phylicia's life force as all that was happening overwhelmed his mind. He saw to it that the outside was turned back to normal with blood drops turning back into regular rain water, and its surroundings turned back to normal color. Feeling uneasy in the legs, he tried to stand up and compose himself before a stinging tug on his heart knocked him back against the Vault door. He opened his eyes and they showed him the image of both Albert and Spencer.

Suddenly, his arms were strung up by limbs of his undead followers and was brought forth for his judgment. In a way, he asked for this. If he had taken the Odin Jewel from the elixir's center, his conquest to repair the world Umbrella ruined would have been for nothing. He would've started from scratch with flashbacks of the things he did in the temple in the first place. So in essence, he was damned by not taking the jewel, but would've been damned regardless if he inhabited its power. Their ghostly, commanding tones took on form.

"_You performed valiantly, Alex. Baser humans have no place in a world like this, no sense of direction. Those humans are probably on their way to hell right about now." _Spencer said walking around Alex.

"_You finally understand the elixir's true purpose, brother. It is time for us to leave this place so we can begin our conquest for absolute god ship. You made me proud to call you "brother". _Albert said.

"I cast you both out of my head." Alex claimed wholeheartedly. "You label me inferior, but I _chose_ to reject the jewel's power. I've seen both your futures; a new world will come. My "Family" will see to that."

"_Perhaps so." _Albert replied. _"But unfortunately for you, they don't take in strays. We are all you have as a semblance of a family."_

"_As long as my Progenitor Virus is in your DNA, you will always be a Wesker. You will always hunger for power and fulfil your true purpose: my legacy. It is inescapable."_

"_In this, he and I are in agreement. Rise above this, Alex. All you need is that jewel the elixir provides and all will make perfect sense. A new dawn will rise in the future; those worthy shall live to see it. We have waited long enough." _

"I will not do this. I have caused enough peril already. Your so-called virus will have to kill me to do your bidding again, Spencer. No matter what you and Albert do to me, it won't end so well for you. I won't submit."

The spirit of Ozwell E. Spencer raised his hand, touched Alex's chest to awaken the Progenitor Virus within. Alex stood his ground with conviction, unafraid for the outcome that was to pass. His bone structure and muscle mass expanded and started inside his body, letting the virus cells take hold and combine it with the elixir's power. The pain grew worse as his DNA was being rewritten while staying awake, driving him to scream and mental meltdowns that transcended beyond the human condition. Voices of his betters pierced his ears and commanded him to respect his heritage, to take control of the elixir's true power. When the visions and voices subsided, Alex laid before Spencer only, welcoming back the son he once lost to his never ending conquest to immortality.

"_My son; _Spencer said with sincerity, _my Alex. Before my time is done, I will pass knowing my two offspring will carry my legacy into their new world. Are you ready to begin?"_

His head rose and looked Spencer right in the eye.

"Yes father." Alex smiled with tears running down his face. "My eyes have finally opened."

Time and again, it has been said the sea is a harsh mistress. When Mother Nature interferes with that mistress, it becomes a clash of water fighting against waves of water, tearing apart anything that was sailing or living within its aquatic ecosystem. The Agmund was no more when it reached a dark opening leading into the Sanctum of Lost Riches. It made a downward spiral with loud scrapes of wood and dead weight hitting the sea like volcanic eruptions. It was a mystery as to who survived. The crystal spring the Sanctum nurtured under eventually arose two bodies swimming up to the surface.

Archer was the first to live through the ordeal, carrying Phylicia on the back of his right shoulder. He placed her on the ground and was taken how badly wounded she was. Blodbad may have been dead, but he made sure he was going to give his attackers hell before going there himself. Her entire body was filled with deep scrapes of the piranha's sharp teeth. Normally as the White Queen, she would heal the wounds and leave scars behind.

Being free of Alex's grasp had its downsides. Archer whispered her name, lifted her arm where one hand still had nails as sharp as ever. He held out his left wrist and used the nail to slit it horizontally; he pressed it against her mouth. Drops of the elixir's origins hit her lips, soon indulged as she drank from his arm. He caressed her and comforted her as she was regaining her strength. Carlos rose to the surface, coughing out water and hoisted himself onto dry land. He lied on his back to catch his breath. He then opened his eyes and squinted at Phylicia; he struggled to turn his body over and help out but suddenly someone else got out of the spring. Two bodies actually, on top of one another; Monica and Kelley with some cuts and bruises of their own. Ethan followed as he got on land. He was on his knees coughing water while being next to Monica.

"I can't believe we lived through that." Ethan said to Monica, coughing.

"Is it over yet?" She asked herself looking at Kelley. "Hey, wake up. We're finally here."

"Sweetheart, it's okay. We're all here, safe." Ethan said feeling worried about her not waking up. "Kelley...?"

Kelley wasn't breathing after a minute or two they reached the surface. Monica performed CPR on her while Cara came out with two weapons in hand: a dagger and an axe. She threw them on the ground and rejoined the others. As for Archer, he was light headed, but relieved at the same time knowing his blood was keeping her alive. She rested in his arms with Carlos watching her as well. Monica kept imploring Kelley to wake up; giving mouth to mouth, the feel of her two hands pressed up and down on her chest.

With each effort passed, her eyes refused to open. "Don't give up on me." She said with her voice cracked. Suddenly, Kelley spat out some water and wheezed trying to get her wind back; Monica fell backwards with relief. Ethan got a burst of joy while hugging Kelley, praising her how well she did in making it through.

That was when Damien rose from the water too. He said Cara's name and she grabbed hold of his arm, pulling him up. Everyone was safe, if not badly injured from a falling ship. Phylicia heard the sounds of angry undead surrounding the Sanctum's infrastructure. At the very last few seconds before she fell along with the others she made sure none of them got through the underground opening.

Blodbad, and as much as it pained her to put Morpheus in that position, she made them barriers. The electricity was live long after he died; the only way for the undead to break through would be at the entrance to the Vault, but they didn't intend to wait before the rainstorm engulfed them away. They were tearing away fragment by fragment to get in where she and the others were at; a cave from the look of things. Carlos asked if everyone was alright to move. He felt the more they stayed in one spot the better chance Alex makes his exit strategy with the elixir.

"I salvaged a couple weapons we can use." Cara said showing them the axe and dagger. "It's not much though."

"We should look through the debris." Damien suggested squishing the water out of his clothes. "There's got to be a sword or two sticking out somewhere."

"You're going to need them when we go up against the keeper of the Vault." Phylicia said.

"I got dibs on the dagger." Monica brought up leaving Cara a little annoyed. "Oh we are not doing this now, girl. Look, I'm not trying to be a bitch or anything. I'm just comfortable with side weapons. Please?"

Cara walked up to her and handed her the dagger. Without a blink or shivering anywhere, she stared Monica right in the eyes and told her about Kelley and Ethan's well-being was because of her efforts kept them alive. She acknowledged she wasn't trying to be heartless to her either, but more concerned for a child that had no place in a drowning temple. Monica made promised she was going to continue to keep both of them alive even if it cost her own life. Cara didn't say anything else and went back to Damien. Suddenly, the outer structure of the temple was having vibrations from the undead trying to break through.

"Listen up everyone. Phylicia will guide you all to the Paratis puzzle, leading into the trophy room. I will stay here and calm them down." Archer told them.

"Are you sure about this, Archer?" Carlos asked.

"It's worth a shot. I sense Alex in a very dark place. He will be distracted to regain control of the elixir inside him."

"What do you mean "regain control"? Damien asked.

"I don't have time to explain. You need to keep moving."

Carlos agreed. He gave them exactly one minute to search the spring for any floating weapons. As they spread out looking, he went up to Monica and gave her his own knife. When it came to melee weapons, he was an expert on knives such as bowie knives, daggers, army knives, even steak knives. He could see a dull weapon from a mile away.

He made the distinction about how the ship's weapons haven't been sharpened for centuries; it was a miracle they worked cutting down the zombies. A minute later only three other weapons were salvaged: another axe, a small mace, and a slanted sword. Carlos took the other axe while Ethan and Damien took the sword and mace. They made a break for the trophy room when Phylicia waited a moment longer with her long lost father. She asked him of the undead and their feelings aside anger. With Archer having the first elixir remnants in him he was able to feel each of their emotions. Some wanted Alex's head while others wanted them dead for killing so many of their brethren back at sea. It was going to take time to talk to all of them with Alex still running things at the Vault.

"It has been quite an adventure with them." Phylicia said.

"Indeed." He replied as ship debris made small waves. "There is a humanity in Alex. Somewhere. He just needs an assuring voice to awaken it."

"What do you intend to do?"

"I brought you back from the temple's control, didn't I? The man has a greater plan than just achieving immortality. I can feel it. Watch over the others."

"Come back to us as soon as you can, okay?" Phylicia told him.

"I will. I promise." He replied kissing her forehead and holding her hand before she left. "In spite of everything that has transpired here, you have grown to be a smart, beautiful woman. Your mother…"

"Do what you have to do here. Then we can go home." She said hugging him.

The Vault's confined space was not a place for any creature or human to be in. Dark energy and the elixir's gooey essence went hand in hand as they plagued his mind. It went from his own thoughts to the thoughts of the Architects, telling him he was unworthy to savor their labored rewards. His father's voice went from bitterness and hatred, to acceptance of his true calling. Still strapped by his wrists from the limbs of fallen corpses, they disintegrated and gave him free reign to summon the Odin Jewel deep below.

Like Archer, he too felt the anger and desperation from each and every undead clawing their way to salvation, but Alex didn't see a salvable future for them. His mind spoke of looking out for number one, to godhood and making the Spencer legacy into a Wesker era, something both he and his brother would joy in partaking. His eyes went deep into the jewel's contents; he could see the power and knowledge of the seven Norse Architects. The Valhallan Elixir was just a bonus. With both resources he can outcast the business of bioengineering and illegal trade of viral weaponry by the sharpness of his speech. No corporation like Umbrella would dare oppose the elixir's purity.

With all the possibilities Alex was thinking of looking into the jewel, he heard Archer making contact telepathically. He spoke in the traditional Norwegian language. Archer wanted to make a deal.

"_Alex, din sinn vokser mørk."_ Archer spoke.

(Alex, your mind grows dark.)

"_Jeg var gjenfødt i en mørk lab under herresetet av min far. Albert og jeg har ikke sett lys til Paraply ble berømt. Du ber nåde om din datter. Hun vil ikke ta det."_

(I was reborn in a dark lab under the mansion of my father. Albert and I didn't see light until Umbrella became famous. You ask mercy for your daughter. She will not take it.)

"_Jeg spør ikke noen nåde for meg selv eller Phylicia. Jeg implore slik vennlighet opp på du."_

(I ask no mercy for myself or Phylicia. I implore such kindness onto you.)

"_Jeg pleier meg ikke det. Min far brainwashed oss begge. For en tid betraktet han oss er like, men det var et fanger; typisk for en far av rank mulighet. Bare ville en oppnå godhood hvis han sviktet til perfekt hans virus."_

(I don't care for it. My father brainwashed us both. For a time, he considered us equals, but there was a catch; typical for a father of upstanding means. Only one would achieve godhood if he failed to perfect his virus.)

"_Og du har perfected det, Alex. Siden en lang tid visste jeg en mann som ikke slik lett ble vendt av tiltakene av korrupte menn. Da du søkte ut elixir, har bevist du din teori sann. Det var en måte å lage humanitet som er bedre uten å vende dem inn i avskyer. Du vet av din fars forestående bortgangen. Du vet nøyaktig hva vil skje til Albert. Er det fremtiden som du vil for deg?"_

(And you have perfected it, Alex. A long time ago, I knew a man who was not so easily turned by the actions of corrupt men. When you sought out the elixir, you have proven your theory true. There was a way to make humanity better without turning them into abominations. You know of your father's imminent demise. You know exactly what will happen to Albert. Is that the future you want for yourself?)

"_Når du forfølger et liv som overgår det menneskelige forståelsen av vitenskapen, er det alltid en pris for belønning. Mine øyne er mørklagt ; far venter meg til å lage ting til høyre og jeg vil gjøre det. Jeg vil se humanitet som blir restaurert til tidligere ære. Da du dem komm ut, har du tatt det i Erke ; den ødeleggende brisen og har varmet omfavnelse av Phylicia ? Hva jeg gjør nå skader meg mer enn tiden som min far kastet meg. Jeg ser deg og din datter ; det er en sjelden ting å se en kausjon redressed. Mens jeg har sagt, må bli betalt en pris for skylden av personlig belønning."_

(When you pursue a life that transcends the human understanding of science, there is always a price for reward. My eyes are darkened; father expects me to make things right and I will do so. I will see humanity restored to former glory. When you got out, did you take it in Archer; the devastating breeze and warm embrace of Phylicia? What I do now hurts me more than the time my father discarded me. I see you and your daughter; it's a rare thing to see a bond redressed. As I've said, a price must be paid for the sake of personal reward.)

"_Tempelet er dradd. Den kampen deres måte til frelse, mens vil vi. La oss fastsetter dette som liten høflighet som vi har for elixir med. Uansett hvem står enda velger hva han ønsker å gjøre med det."_

(The temple is gone. The undead fight their way to salvation, as would we. Let us settle this with what little civility we have for the elixir. Whoever is still standing chooses what he wishes to do with it.)

"_Jeg ser det har ikke forandret deg, Erke. Jeg kan ikke ta tilbake hva Ashford familie gjorde til deg, men jeg er sikker denne konflikten vil slutte snart. Progenitor Virusen skriker for meg å dra deg fra hverandre. Sannhet er er trettet jeg av all denne. Jeg ødela den ene stiftelse av en bedre fremtid. Fortell det å stå ned. Fra her på inn, er det mellom oss og elixir."_

(I see it hasn't changed you, Archer. I cannot take back what the Ashford family did to you, but I am confident this conflict will end soon. The Progenitor Virus is screaming for me to pull you apart. Truth is I am tired of it all. I destroyed the one foundation of a better future. Tell the undead to stand down. From here on in, it's between us and the elixir.)

Archer's observant nature of Alex's intentions was still unclear. He felt another presence inside him, forcing him to do certain things that were not meant for his hands to perform. When his voice left Archer's mind, he tapped into each moving corpse and gave back their eternal rest. On the outside of the Sanctum, blue and red auras that fueled their rage went away, and were sent down into the sea. The action took a toll on his body; he felt drained but was able to stand and catch up with the others.

The caves went from spacious and cool to claustrophobic and warm. They contained other corridors that were modeled to be unpredictable, to never know what was around the next corner. Phylicia guided them through the less confined spaces to get to the Paratis Puzzle faster. As they were getting closer, Carlos noticed her with nerves flowing from her shoulders to her feet. She knew what the puzzle was, but Carlos couldn't bring himself to tell her they were almost through the entire temple ordeal. It wasn't going to change anything he thought. As for the others like Kelley and Damien, they were tired out; days with no sleep with very little food in their systems and littler hope in getting out alive.

Some more than others however, were losing that hope fast. Ethan was following behind everyone else; the right side of his lower stomach was severely sore. He had his hand pressed there since they left the ship's wreckage. When he looked at his hand it was full of blood, and his head was burning up all of a sudden. Phylicia stopped the group and noticed something was wrong with him; Kelley and Monica grew concerned over that fact. They turned around and saw him on his knees; Phylicia took a look at him.

"I'm fine. It's just a scratch." He told Phylicia.

"Scratches don't normally bleed out so much, man." Monica said with concern.

"Ethan you-you're not dying on us. I won't let you!" Kelley shouted.

Phylicia lifted pieces of his Viking armor up and saw a big gash. It didn't leave a clean hole from whatever caused it; traces of the ship's wood were sticking out of the skin. She placed her hand on his head and nearly cindered her skin from the smoldering fever.

"Can you help him?" Carlos asked her.

"Yes. My father can tend to his wound when we get to the Vault. There's a power source there that could heal him and put a stop to the rainstorm out there. But we got to keep moving. Help him up." She replied as she and Carlos attempted to get him back on his feet.

"I don't want help." Ethan said angrily releasing himself from their grasp.

"Well you don't have a choice, old man." Monica said about to grab his legs.

"Fuck off; he shouted with hostility, kicking her to the ground, all of you! Kelley and I were safe in our prison cells. We didn't ask for this!"

"Ethan, you're not thinking straight." Cara told him.

"Archer told us about you and Eikpyrnir you know? She kept you safe when everyone else was getting killed off. Where was she when Alex and his Queens were defiling graves all over Norway? Where was she when two of your own people were ravaged to death and came back as the undead, and I know I was nice and quiet about it 'cause of what's at stake here, but here's something she didn't tell you, girl. She was a healer! All these wounds would've been avoided. Monroe and Terrell would still be alive!"

"You think I wanted all this to happen? I didn't ask for this either." Cara said.

"Guys, we need to calm down for a minute." Damien suggested.

"You have no place in this! You only came here because you couldn't stand your dying grandmother."

"It's just the fever talking." Damien said.

"No, _this_ is a grieving widow talking. I lost my wife, my sanity." He went on before breaking down. "Just…go."

"No one's getting left behind." Phylicia replied when she restrained him. "We're leaving this place."

Archer caught up to them and stopped them before they moved any further. When Phylicia asked why, he told her to look ahead with the eyes of the White Queen. They were in a dark corridor when suddenly torches were brewed on the walls. That was when they were introduced to a disturbing sight. Zombies for as far as the eye can see were standing in one spot; some parallel from each other, others in scary poses.

Archer went on ahead to see if what he did to the undead outside applied the same principle to the Sanctum. He felt a few bodies for any live embryotic sacs. Phylicia couldn't sense any live ones herself; she followed behind him and kept a sharp eye for any unexpected activity. Carlos restrained Ethan while she was doing this. They looked across a left side corridor and heard a noise that sounded different to the ears. Both quietly took a peek and were greeted by three, swift insects that plastered on the walls in a triangle formation.

Phylicia tried her luck in communicating with these new creatures to see what their purpose was. They were scarabs, and the language they spoke consisted of no formal language at all. To her, they sounded distorted, unpleasantly jaded to have lived in the dark for so long. She pulled out one scarab and analyzed its contents. It was made of hard gold on the outside. It got hostile; Phylicia acted quickly by crushing it to pieces.

There was no other corridor that went beyond the one full of scarabs. They went back to the others and backtracked to other areas they didn't explore yet, but red eyes took form on each insect and it didn't get any easier when a horde of them came crawling out of the walls. Big ones; small ones that multiplied at a rapid rate. Monica put Kelley on her shoulders as Damien and Carlos were stepping on them. Archer couldn't communicate with them either, but they weren't controlled by Alex as well. It was a faint glance; each imprisoned scarab was self-aware of what was going on.

Other corridors were filling up fast. They made a break for it in the left side corridor. The screams from the scarabs rose louder and louder; Ethan was losing his ability to move. Phylicia and Carlos held onto him and all ran fast to get to the other side. Eventually, their pulsing pursuit for a way into the Sanctum led them to a mystical force field. The other side led to an even bigger place; it had one main bridge from the look of things. The mystical field required two beings with elixir in their blood to open it up. The others held off with weapons in hand and were killing scarabs left and right. Phylicia and Archer extended their hands and mentally drain the force field away. Once it dissipated, everyone ran through and got some distance until they reached the middle of the big bridge. Phylicia manage to cut off the scarabs' food supply when she caused some wall shaking vibrations, and caused a rockslide to block off the corridor's passage.

"It won't hold them for long. We got to keep moving." She implored them as they moved.

The entire structure leading to the Sanctum was trembling something awful. If that wasn't bad enough, more scarabs gathered and moved at a violent pace through the cracks. The walls became littered within seconds. As they made it to the end, Carlos felt Ethan slipping away. It was getting to the point where he couldn't pull his own weight anymore. Both collapsed on the ground as Carlos was trying to get him up and moving again. Suddenly, Phylicia used what energy she had left and threw them to the others. A large portion of the structure exploded, and a flying beast stepped in. She screamed at the others to not look back, but Archer wouldn't have it. He jumped on the flying beast and fought for a minute before both took their tussle outside.

"Father," she screamed at the top of her lungs!

"Come on!" Carlos shouted as he pulled her away as the bridge collapsed.

As everything collapsed behind them, so did their souls followed suit. Phylicia's most of all. They kept moving on through until they reached the top of another obstacle. They were finally in front of the Sanctum she told everyone.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Carlos asked her.

"There's no turning back. It looks like another puzzle to me." Cara said.

"You guys rest a bit. We'll take a look at what we're dealing with." Carlos said as both he and Phylicia were walking away from the group.

"Car…los..." Ethan spoke in fading tone.

Ethan was not looking well from Monica's point of view. His stomach wound was taking a rousing turn for the worse. Not to mention exhausted from running for his life and worrying about Kelley. Surprisingly, she didn't break down and cry for what she thought was to pass. She wanted everyone to give both of them a moment to talk. Monica got up but she was the only person Kelley wanted to stay with them. Damien told them they were going to take a look at what the Paratis Puzzle was all about.

"We're here." Monica told him. "How're you doing?"

"I am such an idiot. The things I said to Damien, to Cara." He said coughing and grunting in pain. "I didn't mean…"

"It was the fever. Just…take a minute to get some of your strength back." Kelley stressed to him.

"She's right. You're not dying on us."

"I'm afraid…I have no choice. Abbey's waiting for me."

"You can't give up, you dumb bastard." Monica said.

"This world is fucked up. We don't belong in it."

"But we _are_ in it! Where I come from there is no right or wrong, especially after Raccoon City. There's only survival, she continued on looking him up and down, or death."

"The latter chose me…as it turns out."

"You don't know if she died. Kelley and I will keep you alive for as long as we can."

"Even if you had healing powers at your fingertips, why deny an old man's last request?"

Monica lowered her head and tears ran down her eyes as she begged Ethan to hold on. She couldn't keep it together. Cara noticed her breakdown and felt bad about doubting her ability to act like a human being. In her own way, she respected Monica for stepping up, and not just worrying about herself. Freeing Kelley and Ethan from their prisons must've given her a new perspective she thought. Kelley went over and embraced her as she cried on her shoulder. Ethan thanked her once again from the Vessel debacle. She then looked up and respected his decision. Kelley told her she was going to stay with him until he closed his eyes.

The room they were in contained the statue of Paratis Zanto with an inscription derived from the Danish language. Monica noticed it was the same ordeal when Ethan was deciphering each Architect to find out who was inside the Vessel. Other than Ethan, no one else besides Phylicia was able to translate it. She described Paratis as a masochist; he loved to endure pain as well as inflicting it on others.

Before pursuing a career in architecture, he was a tribunal pirate who sailed to distant lands to steal precious treasure. He didn't have a care in the world; if he was killed off by a group of blood thirsty Vikings sporting for a fight with a trespasser, it wouldn't have made a difference in Norse history. But like many great heroes on a personal quest to be legendary, that quest was altered by a Persian Priestess named Karima E'Ahad. Karima had a knack in searching out pirates with sticky fingers, and a dark side to hinder their chances to enter Valhalla. One day, she visited him on his ship and spoke of a job of endless riches that consisted of jewels and valuable journals from famous voyagers. If he was to acquire these things under Karima's direction, she would reform his soul to being a noble citizen once more.

Since he was a thief before, all he heard were riches and the allure of a Persian woman giving him orders. There was a catch however; the territories he would sail to obtain certain objects were ones of third world and abusive reputes. No doubt he was to encounter trouble along the way, and so Karima cursed him to take the lives of abusive husbands and storm drain dwellers if they had so much thought in hurting their lovers. Each life he took was felt ten-fold back on him. Old wounds he inflicted on himself would reopen and remind him it was a fate worse than death.

Throughout her contract to him, she would close up one wound and repeat the process as each item was brought on board. Paratis owned one of the biggest ships of the nine realms; it was filled with over fifty-six pounds of priceless pieces. Towards the end of their voyage together, she was about to tell him the reason behind his curse, but it was around the time Ragnarok met its end by consuming the world underwater. Three years had passed since it happened; most of the riches were gone along with his ship. Six other Architects greeted him on the shores of Grishka, asking for a seventh hand in creating a tribute to the fallen heroes of Norse Mythology.

Karima was nowhere to be found, not to mention Paratis completely forgot who he was before. But for some reason it didn't matter to him because he couldn't remember his old life. He had a handful of workers helping him build a new ship and sail the new oceans for his lost riches. Things in the temple have altered since that time, and in Phylicia's mind there was no doubt whatever they had to do to reach the Sanctum it had to be something dire. It turned out the inscription was actually a few pages worth taken from his new journal when he was helping the others build the temple. The last page told them what was required of the human survivors.

"_Mitt sinn har sett avbilder av et liv som jeg har ikke tilbakekalt. Dette har vært i bevegelse i månedsvis. Min mage er i knoper, og muskler verker fra å samle trinkets freer dagen. Det var et navn som fortsatte å ringe : Karima. Karima; hvilken forretningen har hun hatt med meg ? _

_Hvorfor gjør jeg finner denne fysiske belastningen. ..enjoyable? Mens jeg krysset tempelets konstruksjonen, så jeg en mvabordsetning midt i all denne. Dets innhold hadde overnaturlig kvaliteter alright. Jeg tok en prøve ; det sitter i mine fjerdedeler mens jeg skriver. Kanskje vil dette stoffet hjelpe meg tilbakekaller hvem jeg var i det forløpne livet..."_

(My mind has been seeing images of a life I did not recall. This has been in motion for months. My stomach is in knots, and muscles ache from collecting trinkets all day. There was a name that kept ringing: Karima. Karima; what business did she have with me?

Why do I find this physical strain...enjoyable? While I was traversing the temple's construction, I saw a vat sitting in the middle of it all. Its contents had supernatural qualities alright. I took a sample; it sits in my quarters as I write. Maybe this stuff will help me recall who I was in the past life...)

As Paratis sought to see what his images meant, so too did Phylicia's recollection of what this room was about. She was in the same place before, a long time ago.

"Phylicia, you have that look like you know what this place is." Carlos told her.

"I was trapped in here." She replied suddenly getting a violent flashback. "Damn you Wesker."

"You know this place or not?" Monica demanded.

"This isn't a puzzle. It's a torture chamber. My studies on Paratis stated his masochism resurfaced the moment he sampled the first remnants of the elixir. The only way to enter the Sanctum is to relive a horrid memory, and how that memory hurts skin deep will be up to us. After everything we've been through, his other side is still not satisfied."

"Other side," Carlos asked?

Suddenly, both sides of the room opened up entries that extended sarcophaguses accommodated to each survivor. Phylicia told them they would have to lie inside one and go to sleep. Cara argued against this and didn't want to be trapped in an old coffin forever. That's what Maeori didn't want she said to her, yet her end didn't on a positive note either. Kelley walked up to the rest of the group with her eyes glued to the ground.

"Ethan...?" Monica asked as she stared at her as an answer. "Let's get this over with. I want to find this son of a bitch and kill him once and for all."

"Monica." Cara said.

"What?" She asked in frustration.

"How long do we have to stay in these coffins for?"

"It depends on the memory. If it's dark and if it's acceptable to…Wesker we'll be transported to the Sanctum afterwards. I'm sorry about Ethan." Phylicia told Kelley.

"Let's just keep moving." She suggested wholeheartedly. "He'd want that."

Each of them stepped into the empty coffins with the doors sliding back into place soon after. Out of everyone, Damien was the most scared. So many occurrences have taken its toll on him that he should be dead or close to; he always kept his grandmother at the back of his mind. She was one of the main reasons he had been surviving this long. The coffins sprayed some sort of dark green anesthetic, putting them in a deep narcotic haze and having them sleep into what dark memories their mind bottled up. Everyone had their dark secrets, but that matter little to Paratis. After they went to sleep, another contraption was put in play; a set of scalpel shaped blades on metallic rods hovered in a slanted position over the survivors' exposed skin. They were in for a nightmare of their lives.

12


	10. Part IX: Odin's jewel

Temple of Kurinthian

Part IX: Odin's jewel

The Sanctum and Vault used to be two of the highest peaks of the Kurinthian Temple. The rain water kept rising; the demolished temple was barely visible anymore. Archer remembered himself fighting a strange flying beast that shared a close resemblance to the mutated hunters with long tongues. At one time in the past they were called "Lickers": another bio-organic weapon from the Umbrella Corporation. He woke up feeling numb everywhere and his head felt heavy.

His skull felt so dense, if he tried to get a feel for what was in front of him he would break his neck. But from his blurry vision, he kind of gotten the idea of what position he was in. It was not uncommon for subjects to bow before a great one, and for Alex it was his greatest wish for someone other than him to bow and scrape for once. Archer put all of his strength to his back to have a fighting chance of standing up. The Licker placed his claw hand and kept him grounded.

"_Alex...how kan deg ?" _He asked feeling exhausted.

(Alex…how could you?)

"_Odins juvel. Har en tidløs artefakt noensinne sett slik klar, så klar ? Jeg kan se nå hvorfor elixir aldri kan bli tainted eller kan bli konstruert i en lab. Det tok meg år, Erke. Jeg følte alltid noe sterk forble i tempelet, men mitt normalt selv som ha blitt valgt ikke til overindulge i nysgjerrighet. Min far hadde rett om en ting : Jeg er uverdig. Jeg var uverdig til iden jeg noensinne kunne passe opp til hans selfishness og detraction av menneskelig liv. Elixir som seg kan bli begravd for all som jeg meg bekymrer. Denne juvelen er min frelse til verdenen."_

(Odin's jewel. Has a timeless artifact ever looked so clear, so serene? I can see now why the elixir can never be tainted or engineered in a lab. It took me years, Archer. I always felt something strong lingered in the temple, but my normal self chose not to overindulge in the curiosity. My father was right about one thing: I am unworthy. I was unworthy to the idea I could ever match up to his selfishness and detraction of human life. The elixir itself can be buried for all I care. This jewel is my salvation to the world.)

"I can still see conflict in you. You hold the jewel and cherish its power like some priceless antique. Yet your heart begs you to not be consumed for what it might do to you. Alex, please see reason. You have loathed your father's legacy since you left him to rot in his own home. Allow someone else who has studied the jewel a little longer than you. We both can prevent the world from future biohazards; just let me in."

Alex left the jewel levitating in the air for a bit. He then raised a cup of the elixir and went back to where the licker was keeping Archer. Archer had a glimmer of a chance he would listen to him. In the Danish language, he spoke to the Licker about drinking to keep her strength up. "Her" Archer thought; that was when his eyes opened wide when he ordered her to fly back to the Sanctum and lie in wait for the human survivors; especially for the old man. Her sharp clawed hand rose from Archer's overly worn back and flew away, leaving the two remaining minds of Norse Mythology's checkered history. Alex bent to his level and raised his head to give him back some elixir he lost over the course of his unplanned freedom from the Vessel. In his own way, he still showed mercy in troubled times. They spoke in the common tongue.

"You should be able to move." Alex told him backing away.

"You are doing the right thing, my friend." He replied, using his knees to stand up. "There was a time when you were a better man than the ones who destroyed a city simply because they could. Ragnarok is happening all around us. The rain water will consume us all if we don't lift the Architects' curse."

"They spoke to me when I was in the elixir. They said if I had inhabited its power, I would end up in the world I lived in before. I rejected it you see, but the virus my father implanted in me still speaks in harsh tones, telling me I'm inferior to my brother."

"You're damned if you do, damned if you don't. It's the circle of life when it comes to finding power. The illusion of immortality corrupts, Alex; even the degradation of a loving wife." Archer said before swiftly grabbing his neck.

"Now who's abusing their power?"

"She had no hand in this, Alex. How could you do that to her?!" He demanded as both pushed each other towards opposite sides of the Vault.

"I have been cut off from the rest of the world. But I think in this case, these words still apply to the overall picture: everything is going according to plan."

The Sanctum was tailored to both mystery and discovery. Silence filled the room where each sarcophagus sheltered the six remaining survivors. Ethan's body laid stiff yet peaceful thanks to Kelley's last kind words to him, and passing from the world knowing he was truly free. In each coffin lied a dark memory ready to be resurfaced as the green smoke turned a different color. The scalpel shaped blades made one incision on each survivor, opening the gateway for their inner fears to flow. Carlos's fear set his sarcophagus a blazing blue as a pinch was felt on his arms. His eyes were taken back to the time where a walking behemoth chased him through some city streets.

He could almost recall the gruff and monstrous snarls of the beast made from the labors of Umbrella. The Nemesis in Raccoon City was a ferocious sort; he chased both him and his partner at the time, Jill Valentine all throughout the police department, city alleys filled with T-Virus zombies, and the adrenaline he felt when he was tracking down his old CO, Nicholai. At the time, his mind wasn't his to control. It played a memory that seemed the most dark and relevant to him and strung him along like he was gaining the upper hand; him and Jill. That was until they reached a dead end and saw a missile heading for the city. It was moving in slow motion, just like the zombie horde and the Nemesis finally caught up with them.

Using what ammo they had left in their firearms, they only managed to get a third of the horde down. Suddenly, a familiar face walked out of nowhere in front of them. His old friend and comrade, Mikhail stepped in with blood all over him, holding a grenade to show what he was about to do as a final solution. Carlos called out his name and ran like hell to prevent him from pulling the pin. Then Nemesis roared out a thundering tone which sent him on his back. Jill helped him up and both looked to Mikhail as he gave them a smile and a nod, pulling the pin and ending it all. This memory sent Carlos on a spiraling path of twisted images and seizing in the sarcophagus itself. The only thing left for him to do was to resist from submitting to the realness of the disturbing images of human lives getting taken by Nicholai and the T-Virus.

Cara's memory of her first zombie sent her back through time to the moment where her aunt was taken away after being rescued by the S.T.A.R.S soldiers from her home. However, she didn't emerge as the eleven year old with a velvet singing voice, but as her present self with some experience in handling weapons. She was in the aftermath of her house burnt to the ground, waking up next to her dead aunt with a bullet hole in her infected skull. She got startled and moved away a bit, but she recognized the picnic table dress she was wearing back then. She looked at her house and saw all the good memories of her past visits go up in smoke. Getting up with a shotgun in hand, she stood over her aunt's body.

"_Bendiga a padre celestial, este mundo ha ido al infierno con el muerto levantándose. Mi tía fue demasiado pronto. Pregunto que cuida de ella en sus armamentos amorosos cuando había fallado de hacer así. Descanse en la paz." _She said kissing her hand and putting it on her head.

(Bless heavenly father, this world has gone to hell with the dead rising up. My aunt went too soon. I ask that you take care of her in your loving arms when I had failed to do so. Rest in peace.)

She walked away from the suburban part of Raccoon City and made her way downtown. She walked about five blocks filled with demolished buildings and more dead bodies that were rotting away. She checked each one to make sure they were dead. Then the city's skies went from dark to a slew of colors, and the gravity was all over the place. It kept her shoulders at mid-level as she was on all fours moving through the street.

Then a vibrant blaze of red seared the buildings to ash, leaving the entire city a burial ground in a matter of seconds. Filled with distraught and not feeling like herself, all that was left to see was her body encased in rotted flesh and her shotgun unreachable. She screamed and screamed trying to get out. Three bodies appeared before her; they were in the presence of her aunt, Terrell with both halves of his body split welded together, and Monroe looking like a frail shell of his former self with a bullet to the head. She pleaded how sorry she was for what happened to them, especially Terrell.

"I've done my best to stay strong for you guys." She said giving a stern look to each of them. "I promise...I'll make your deaths mean something."

She thought it was necessary to end their suffering, but something was keeping her from explaining her side. Her aunt scrunched her left hand, causing Cara's mouth to be closed, while Monroe limped to her with flesh on the rotting mind. As she struggled more and more to get free, Terrell was dragging metal on the ground; it was the same bloody axe. He nearly cut her down before she ordered him not to. The aunt bent down and sent her right hand caressing down Cara's face, speaking in two demonic tones at once.

"Don't be afraid, my dear. We are only taking you to hell. The souls of Raccoon City linger there, waiting to be released. A certain Chief Irons won't let us leave though, but I wonder if he will change his mind after we offer you to his pleasure?" She said as Cara screamed through her trapped mouth. "He's not picky when it comes to fondling teenagers, yet your face needs more time to develop. Well, we don't much time. Terrell, she called him over, carve out one of her eyes, and then slit her neck so she doesn't scream. Irons prefers his women with their mouths shut."

Right then, she screamed at the top of her lungs with her aunt apologizing for what had to be done. Terrell raised the axe and started slitting her throat slowly, savoring the act. Back in her sarcophagus she was seizing from her fear, and a very twisted one at that. Kelley's slumber was a reenactment of the time she was taken from her home in London by agents of a very influential family. At first she was to be taken to Rockfort Island to be experimented on for the Code Veronica virus. She was ripped away from her home of her parents and two older brothers, landing in a comatose state.

She woke up in a lab strapped to a table, but she wasn't the only one. Eight other children were strapped against their will under the guise of a crazed man. Alfred Ashford, heir to the family's legacy from Umbrella, was testing on the adolescent to see which one would be fit to be his sister's child. This black project was inspired by Project W, Ozwell E. Spencer's work. Alfred couldn't bare the fact he couldn't bring his sister back to life so he wanted a little playmate to play games with. Kelley nearly resembled Alexia in terms of her looks. Before she was taken, Kelley was a playful sort; her favorite game was hide and seek. It was around the year 2000 when she was only six years old. The next thing her mind was reacquainted with was being escorted by prison inmates. Rockfort Island used to be a well-known prison that ran under the Ashford name. From there, she was introduced to a vat chamber where Alexia slumbered. Alfred's voice coveted Kelley's purpose as to why she was brought to the island.

"_Look my darling Alexia, isn't she an angel? The resemblance is uncanny. I am close now; the Veronica Virus will be completed soon. I was thinking…this little girl, you and me, we can start a new family. Father never truly appreciated our flourished personalities."_

Kelley was back as her six year old self. Without any form of control over her actions, she was screaming and begging to be free. It brought her back haunting memories; the dying screams of other children, the wheezing sound of Alfred's voice making sickening promises while covering them up with tongue rolling words and candy.

"_Be quiet child!" _Alfred told her as the screaming continued. _"My sister wants to hear me speak.__ You should be grateful. Father would have done worse; me most of all. You see sweetheart, I have been putting my head against the meat grinder for months to make my Alexia better. Dead end after dead end, soul after soul telling me I was crazy. NO, NO, NO! Crazy's too harsh a word. I tend to think of myself as a closed businessman. Now, I feel like playing a game. You like hide and seek? Well too bad; I don't want you running off."_

"_Just let me go! I won't tell anyone who you are."_

"_Behavioral dysfunction; Alexia was the controlling factor of the family. I can't have a scared little girl as our daughter. That's a big no-no. What do you suggest I do to make her feel more at home?" _He asked her sister.

"_I just want me mum and daddy."_

"_In the world we live today, nobody cares what you want. It's all about personal gain, and by god if it makes me lose all my hair, you will honor me. You will honor a father the way a daughter is supposed to. Luckily, I have something to make you respectable. Wait here."_

Kelley was scared alright, but some force suddenly allowed her to speak in a different light, something Alfred wasn't expecting. As soon as he turned his back on her to go get the serum, she exhaled and said this.

"_When Daniel and Tristan come looking for me, you'd best be ready; cause' they're going to kick your arse over the moon."_ She spoke confidently.

Alfred had a twitch about him. He was a disturbingly calm individual until a dime is flipped. He was sent over the edge with such backtalk spewed at him. He walked to his working table and picked up a glue gun. As he walked back to her with hot glue ready for use, an explosion occurred outside of the main lab complex. Kelley's brain flashed forward and showed her images of Alfred getting backhanded along with spine tingling sounds of bones breaking in many different places. It followed up by being rescued by a man wearing all black with an oxygen mask with zero emotion written all over. The voice of the man was straightforward in its delivery. He spoke of his client and that she will feel safe with him. But she didn't have the slightest clue of her second captor.

"_Why is this happening to me? Where are my parents?"_

"_You can't go home, Kelley. The Ashford family has many eyes. Trust me on this; where you're going you will be far out of their reach."_

"_Is he bad?"_

"_His name is evil to many people, and a wealthy one at that. This man in particular is different."_

"_Are you bad?"_

"_Let's just say I'm one man death refuses to take. Stay quiet."_

Between the time she was supposedly rescued, and waking up when Monica was planning a prison break, she barely remembered. Apart from meeting Alex for the first time and a few conversations from the Vessel's telepathic voice, the next five years haven't been all that eventful. One thing was for sure though, Ethan didn't lay a hand on her, and the Vessel's calming voice kept her relatively sane. Monica's dark past was a different story. Growing up in Bon Temps, having a father fighting tooth and nail to become a member of the S.T.A.R.S. organization, and losing her mind a year after Raccoon City.

At age 14, she went from a wild child who didn't harm a fly to being a wild animal. Her father, Zeke Janowitz was not heard from the T-Virus outbreak; not even a phone call from the organization confirming his death. She, her mother, and her seven year old cousin Byron were left wandering Tennessee filled with grief and questions. Monica's descent to delinquency happened when she turned sixteen. She was doing poorly in High School and just couldn't keep herself together.

Now apart from not having a curvy or a supermodel's body, she did have a lovely, natural born face. It was the one thing many guys in Bon Temps were drawn to; their instruments anyway. Her first dark memory brought her to when she was first defiled outside the school cafeteria. It was a horny senior with 321lbs of moon pies, fried chicken and biscuits. Another memory took her to the girls' locker room. Her right hand kept driving into some poor girl's face; Monica couldn't recall her name.

In fact, she didn't recall if she did anything to provoke her face to become a punching bag. Her descent went deeper and deeper when she packed her bags and left home. She slept at bus stops, downing whiskey in bar slums, all feeling like a failure. Her father meant the world to her as any loved one who went to war and didn't come back. What was even more messed up for her was the fact her family didn't get invited to the memorial service in Washington D.C. to commemorate the fallen Raccoon City Police officers and soldiers. No answers, no closure, and no form of contact with the rest of her family.

Things didn't truly get worse until she promised to have a threesome with some drunken losers while she was hitchhiking in Dallas. They wanted to have her in every conceivable way, even if it meant losing their manhood and picking pitcher shards out of their back. Juvenile Hall couldn't take her, and Tennessee didn't have a female prison to keep someone like Monica in. A few dozen fights and the blood loss of her cell mate, courtesy of an ice skating motion of a scalpel, she was brought before the female warden of the prison. Brenda her name was: 200lbs of pure old fashion expertise when dealing with troubled women.

Contrary to her Monica's standing with her, she was becoming more of a problem than she was actually worth. Brenda and five of her guards ganged up on her and wanted to see what kind of survivor she really was. She was able to take down three guards easy thanks to some agile dodging and arm breaking hits. After gaining the upper hand, she was brought back down thanks to a heavy stun baton that not only stunned her, but left nasty gashes along her back and thighs. Every hit as opposed to the seizing she was enduring in her sarcophagus, she was trying to hold out for as long as she could.

Monica hardened during her time in jail. The last thing her distraught mind brought her to was having one last go-around against Brenda before a parole officer named Daniels took her to Venezuela to meet up with Sam Travers. Images jumped and vibrated with each hit thrown at one another. It didn't end until both were on the ground. Three years in dealing with life in a female prison, building up her reputation and developing an anti-social attitude. She was finally given leave to rejoin the outside. They were both on the ground in two big pools of their own blood, inhaling and exhaling faintly.

_"I won't lie._ _You are your daddy's girl." _Brenda told her.

"_You don't know shit what he was like." _Monica responded while in pain.

"_But I understand his character. My son...he was a soldier for S.T.A.R.S. during the viral outbreak in Raccoon City. He fought by your father's side no doubt, handling B.O.W.s. like those hunters with the long tongues. He…would have loved to see how you've grown as a survivor."_

_"Who the fuck are you kiddin?_ _He would've disowned me if he found me like this."_

"_In these parts there is no right or wrong. In this…society there is no such thing as morality. You either survive or submit to the demons of bastardizing corporations."_

"_Are we done here? Am I cleared to go on this foreign mumbo-jumbo?"_

Brenda smiled and said she will never be free of the prison she threw herself into. Around this time, she had forgiven Monica for the reasons that led her down this path in the first place, but at the end of the day she fought and defeated the queen of the damned, and will soon be damned when her time in Norway was over. At the time, Monica could care less about going back to prison or what was out there in the Kurinthian Temple. Now it was scaring the hell out of her. She lost partners, grew a conscience when she was bonding with a little girl and a resilient old man in the prison cells, and having a gut feeling that the fight she lost to Brenda would come back to haunt her when she and the others reached the Vault.

As she continued seizing, Damien was faced with a reality he knew in the back of his mind would come to pass, but didn't understand how much it would bring him down emotionally. Having a family abandon you at a young age and remarrying a few years later to make families of their own was a bad enough toll on his mind. It didn't really devastate him as much as feeling bitter when he reached his teen years. His grandmother, Agatha was capable in helping him through harsh realities by facing them. He found himself sitting in a moving cab on a snowy afternoon in Denver, Colorado.

Things felt bleak; perhaps a little too bleak combined with the exhaustion he was feeling. He looked at the front mirror and recognized it was the same cab driver that was complaining about his life constantly when being drove to the airport to meet up with Travers. He didn't say anything in this instance. The cab pulled up to his grandmother's house. When Damien got out, the driver apologized in a vague way, driving away soon after. With his suitcase in one hand he went up to the house door and knocked on it three times to let her know he was back.

After the third knock however, the door cracked open a bit. He got nervous entering inside; luckily the house itself was as exactly what he remembered. Agatha's den of all her artwork and college lesson plans, the faint smell of beef stew and snicker doodle cookies in the dining room, finished portraits of the things she has seen on the outside world along with other pieces that plunged the depths of the human condition; inner self type stuff. He called out her name and saying he was back; the house was too silent even for her. He dropped his bag next to the couch in the living room, and went upstairs to see if she was still sleeping. Betthany once told him over the phone before Norway that she was taking care of the tumors behind her lungs. He then stood in front of her bedroom door, saying his name softly so she wouldn't be surprised. She lied in her bed with hospital equipment all around her.

"Grandma, it's me." He said holding her left hand. "I'm sorry I left you when I did. You must think I'm no smarter than my biological parents. I accept that. You look like you're still fighting this thing; I shouldn't be surprised should I?"

She opened her eyes and had a blurry vision when she saw Damien sitting by her bedside. She had a confused look on her face as she pulled her hand away from his.

"Are you…you look like Gale's son, Tim. You should be in school you know?"

"Who's Gale?" He asked.

"You don't know your own mother? She's my doctor. After my best friend gave up on me I just refused give up myself; it's a character flaw of mine. Gale is a nice lady. You hardly get decency for house calls anymore."

"No I-I'm-I'm Damien: your grandson."

"How dare you use his name in vain?" She spoke in a harsh tone. "If I wasn't attached to freaking IV's everywhere I'd kick your ass out. I don't know who you are or how you know me; now get out of my home."

"Grandma, listen to me." Damien tried explaining.

"GET OUT!" She screamed hyperventilating soon after.

Suddenly, another person ran into the bedroom and knocked Damien out of the way to stabilize her breathing patterns. Three minutes afterwards when things got settled, Gale asked for a word of his and both walked out of the room into the hallway. She demanded to know who he was and why he was disturbing Agatha. Damien tried to make a case that he was her grandson and that he came back from a very long trip to see how she was doing. He asked if she was suffering memory loss along with the lung tumors.

Gale made it clear she didn't disclose doctor/patient confidentiality to strangers. It turned out she knew full well of her grandson and what happened to him. Gale herself didn't know all the details, but Agatha told her about how he suffered a severe chest injury that played too close to his heart. That was irony for her she told him. As soon as she spoke of the event, her voice muffled out and couldn't get a syllable of what she was saying. Damien then dropped to his knees when his eardrums felt like he was close to a mortar cannon about to be fired off. The room went disjointed as he was trying to endure the noise. When he looked up at her, she presented no reaction whatsoever.

"I need the toilet." He said pushing Gale out of the way.

The ear bleeding noise commenced until he reached the bathroom. He couldn't breathe after hearing all that. Closing the bathroom door behind him his throat closed and broke down. Damien was unable to separate what was real and what was false. Gearing towards the end to find the elixir he was missing her more than ever. Back on the Agmund leading to the Sanctum he kept throwing himself at the undead more than once and pulling embryotic sacs out left and right.

He didn't know he was capable in doing that; most of the time his kills were instinctual. When he was brought before his grandmother he felt he was finally at home yet sad she was still suffering from her heart condition. He got up from the floor and checked himself in the mirror; his chest felt moist all of a sudden. Then he heard drops falling, and pain ensued when he twisted his waist. He lifted his shirt while it fastened itself to his skin; three bloody scars that looked fresh.

His face grew with shock and suddenly the lights in the bathroom shorted out, sending his back against the wall. He acted fast when he opened the bathroom door; pain stung as his scars dragged across the hallway rug. He crawled back to his grandmother's room. She sat up and nearly sent both of them into cardiac arrest when the outside let out a cackling thunder which shook the entire house.

"I thought I told ya to leave! You should be arrested for stealing someone's identity; especially my..." She went on before realizing who Damien was finally. "Damien…"

"Grandma..." He grunted in severe pain as he latched both hands on the edge of the bed. "I'm going to get you out of here."

A quick shadow walked over Agatha's head. Under the bed, he found her cane and used it to elevate himself up. The pain went from stinging to excruciating the more he struggled supporting himself. She got out of bed like she was never sick in the first place.

"You're alright…?" He asked out of shock.

"I am. You're obviously not. I just called Gale; she'll be here soon with an ambulance."

"You recognize me, like you _really_ see me?" He asked while being escorted.

"Of course, son; I'm dead not delirious."

"You didn't make it." Damien dreaded before turning around.

A familiar face revealed itself to him. It was in the image of one of the queens; the White Queen herself. She called him out for being slow in the perceptive department, and how he failed to stay where he belonged. Unable to make a move, he stood stiff as Venezia slid her hand down the deep scars she made claim how it was so easy to kill him. Damien filled himself up with anger and fear at the same time, mentally kicking himself for not breaking out of her bodily chokehold.

"You were never meant for this kind of world. Umbrella and its thieving mongrels turned the Earth into a chaotic theater of war. Many have tried to end the outbreaks to only face another in its place: Leon Kennedy, Claire Redfield, Barry Burton, Jill Valentine, they carry the martyr complex. These names were branded both criminals of the few and heroes of the fewer. What are you? What purpose brought you to our temple? It matters not. But I have a feeling you and I are going to be very close in the years to come."

"I swear to god if you touch my grandmother..." He threatened her.

"You'll do what? Scowl me to death? Maybe pack on a handgun or two and shoot me a couple times as I chase you down narrow corridors in some expensive mansion. You have no further role in Maestro's plot. His elixir will disperse into the atmosphere; make mankind immune to all viruses. As for me, your conscience _wants_ me to kill you. I am only here to see to it." She said sticking her hand inside one of the scar tissue, making him scream in pain. "If you live through this, you'd best sleep with one eye open from then on."

As soon as she was about to rip his scarred heart out, his mind came back to the confines of his sarcophagus. Dripped with sweat and crazy in his eyes, he seized and kept banging on the door to let him out. Suddenly, his coffin moved in an upright position, opening up and releasing the green smoke before he collapsed. The others ended up doing the same, all on the ground in a fetal position trying to reach an understanding about which reality they were in was real. Phylicia woke up the first three minutes after getting out of her sarcophagus.

She was the least affected by her hallucinogens; at least not in the physical area. She opened her eyes and knew they finally reached the Sanctum of Lost Riches. It was like a mini museum stocked with antiques and treasures reclaimed by Paratis Zanto. It also had some unique memorabilia that didn't look to be ancient, as if they were derived from pivotal moments since the early days of Umbrella. She turned her attention back towards the others and looked straight at Damien. Looking at her hands she told herself not to fall into the trap of what she was about to do. Carlos woke up and nearly threw up his sub from the nasty green smoke. She ran to him to see if he was okay. He faintly asked her if they reached the Sanctum followed by a relief sigh he was right.

"We finally made it. I knew it. Ay deus, this has turned into one hell of a trip." Carlos said as they both sat up.

"What was it like for you in there?" She asked him.

"Seeing your best friend get blown up in front of you for one. I could've saved him; he was near death but I didn't care. In the end, he saved me in Raccoon City. I shouldn't be tell you this." He said gathering himself. "It'll…take time for me adjust to this place again."

"The Paratis Puzzle represents suffering; that much was clear to me. But in those coffins…the green smoke acts like a hallucinogen. It peels back the layers of the human mind down to the core of a human's most horrid memories. I nearly lost myself to my past."

"Phylicia…"

"Alex found me in the temple. I was chained in darkness with nothing but the sounds of wind, and echoing pieces of this place falling to the ground. I was sixteen back then. I don't know why my father and I were taken. He would never compromise his work. He must've refused a man named Ozwell."

"I remember you telling me. Spencer left behind some vicious monsters to play with you while you were blind in the darkness. Alex came to you in the nick of time, killed them with nothing more than a crow bar and a P92F handgun. He clothed you, kept you at ease for a while, turned you into his queen. I'm not saying it has been paradise for any of us. You say he was a better man back then. Why didn't he let you go?"

"I don't know. When I became Venezia I lost a lot of my memories as a human. Things are slowly coming back though. All that matters is getting out of here." She made quite clear.

Cara, Monica, Kelley, and Damien finally woke up from their nightmares too, all feeling uneasy. Phylicia assured them the effects of the green hallucinogens would wear off in a few minutes. Damien wasn't convinced; what he saw was different. He saw her as a possible future that didn't have his grandmother in it or his own will. Suddenly, he snapped and charged at her, knocking her to the ground. He started suffocating the life out of her with blind rage written in the whites of his eyes. She kicked his chest and sent him flying back towards Monica. Carlos told her to restrain him.

"Can't you see what she is?!" He shouted, trying to break free. "She's like Maeori! It's who she is; it's all she'll ever be!"

"Jesus Walsh, take a chill pill!" Monica said.

"You can't stop her! She'll trap you until you can't escape, and rip your fucking heart out! Let...let go of me!"

"Breathe Damien." Carlos said trying to calm him down. "She's on our side!"

"That gas packed one hell of a hit, Carlos!" Monica said. "I'd say he has a right to be pissed off."

"You're not helping! Damien, listen to me! You have to calm down. The gas is making you crazy." He said keeping him in place. "It's going to pass, hermano. I promise."

Damien couldn't take the small talk so he head butted Monica's skull and pushed Carlos out of the way to finish off what he was doing. Phylicia came up with a solution and told Carlos to hold him down. Once he got him pinned on the ground once again, she placed her right hand over his hair and suddenly a darker green smoke rose out of it. It was thicker; louder too. She held it away from everyone and observed it for a second. Everyone else thought she was the crazy. She said it was a thicker hallucinogen, played out the same scene in his head just as it did hers. Only difference was, she came into her nightmare after the fact. In it, she stood over Damien's body with a blue, pulsing heart with blue blood dripping from her fingertips. She took it as a dangerous sign; a sign he would lost his humanity someday and turn into one of the undead. She crushed the smoke as it dissipated away.

"That was stuck in his head?!" Cara asked.

"Oh fuck me. I think I'm alright." Damien told Carlos as he stood up shaking his head and looking at Phylicia. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped like that."

"It's okay." She said.

"Goddamn Wesker." Monica brought up observantly. "He's doing everything he can so we don't reach that elixir of his. You know this place has any more weapons?"

"I hear something over there." Kelley pointed out to a dark shadow of the Sanctum.

She ran off to go take a look with Monica following behind. A certain prisoner was being kept safe thanks to a promise the Vessel made. It was too bad her husband didn't live long enough to be reunited with her. When both reemerged and joined the group, Abigail, Ethan's wife, was still alive if not worse for wear. Being in a Sanctum full of historical artifacts can really keep a person sane in these parts Abigail told them. She met the others and was assured by Carlos she was going to be kept safe. She was a middle aged Japanese-American who grew up in South Carolina. Monica was familiar with the accent, saying she had a few friends who lived there. After the pleasantries, she wanted to know where Ethan was.

"How did you get here?" Carlos asked.

"My father raised her cell and guided her to this place. Back when the Vessel had control over every aspect of the temple, he'd sometimes grant certain prisoners who simply didn't want the elixir injected into them. Abigail was one of eight humans who were sent free, but the others are long gone now."

"Thanks to me." Monica admitted in a grim tone. "I was responsible for a prison break in getting your husband and Kelley out of there. I couldn't save them all."

"And Ethan; where is he?" Abigail asked.

"He didn't make it." Kelley replied. "He wanted me to let you know he did all he could to reach you. He almost did."

"A hardened SOB he was." Monica brought up.

"Excuse me." Abigail said running off with Phylicia following behind.

Time was running against them and they didn't have the luxury to explore every inch of the Sanctum. Carlos told the others they were going to need weapons to go up against whoever was guarding the Vault's door. Everyone split up and ventured to different areas. As for the confrontation in the Vault itself, the fight was on even ground between Archer and Alex. But the whole conflict was merely buying time to prevent Alex from using the jewel.

In his own stubborn way, he still felt he could break away from the legacy his father and brother had forced on him. When it came to hand to hand combat mixed with using the elixir's remnants, Archer gained the advantage for a while. He lifted Alex in the air and slammed him all over the walls while jumping up and getting two hits until he brought him down to ground level. Alex retaliated; he grabbed Archer, head butted him and threw him towards the stairway leading to the elixir. He rolled down and tried getting back up. He sensed Alex and moved away at the last second before the ground he stood on was imploded.

He got some distance back towards the Vault door and mentally concentrated on healing himself. With all the bruises and blood coming out of his mouth, and his inability to hear on his left side he was having a hard time. Not to mention he felt the elixir boiling in the well, swirling and rising to give the Odin jewel its full power. Alex took one look at him before turning away and walking up to it. Fourth time was the charm when achieving full potential he chose to reject in the first place.

"Alex, you can't do this! You still have a conscience somewhere. Please my friend; if not for me..."

One last round was going to determine who had the better reasoning; winner takes all. Alex was getting annoyed and got wind he was just stalling for the other humans to arrive. Archer limped towards him; the human side of Alex wanted to know why he was persisting to keep the elixir from being released into the atmosphere. He said time and again his set purpose was to fulfill his father's last wish but in his own way. It was intended to make human beings morally superior while still remaining human; not the bio organic weapons Umbrella created. The fighting stopped and both looked at the floating jewel.

"That's right. Do what your surrogate couldn't do. That's what you wanted all along."

"I hear them." Alex said looking intimately into the jewel.

"I can hear them too. You're trying so hard to reject what your other side wants that it's winning. This is good. All seven Architects lie in there; their language is cryptic. It is neither Norse nor Danish. In the old times, Odin was a wise man; not just in ruling a kingdom and succeeding his own father in the battles he's won, but methodical when it came to covering his tracks. From my understanding, the Architects inherited the jewel and changed it as an ironclad tool to prevent anyone from achieving immortality. That's the reason why the undead out at sea couldn't fight back properly. The elixir itself only granted them temporary strength."

"They're telling me my own future. Each of them offers a fragment which tells a great many events. They say I'll be forever infected by my father's virus. I'm starting to think this trip I had set out years ago was all a waste."

"You knew all along? You knew about the temple's real power source and that the Architects still took precedence here. This is your last chance, Alex. Let me take care of the jewel; you walk away from this. Then again, how could you since the entire landscape is underwater? Maybe you were a swimmer in the past life. You can still make a difference out there. The tyrants of the corporate world will always overrule you in spite of your namesake. I suffered from the sting of the Ashfords; you from your father and brother. Allow me."

Alex pondered for a moment for what he wanted to do next. The voice of Spencer was not present in his head, and the Progenitor Virus compelled him still to take jewel, and gain immortality. He held out his hand waiting for a firm handshake from Archer, asking if he loved his daughter. After Archer gave his obvious answer while wondering about the question, Alex apologized for what he did to her. Why he would apologize for saving her life he asked him? Archer shook his hand and was brought close to him.

"We'll do it your way." Alex told him. "On the last fight between Wesker and Kurinthian, that will determine who controls the elixir."

"Very well; shall we begin my friend?"

Suddenly, he grabbed Archer's entire body and threw him towards the jewel. The jewel itself opened up and a large flash of light sent Alex backwards, sending the entire Vault on edge. Once it closed and set things back to normal, he gave a nod and told himself it was going to be one promising confrontation. The voice of Spencer agreed, saying Alex was becoming all he hoped he would be: perceptive and ruthless. At this point, Alex knew the things that were being said in his head weren't true. Spencer was still the bitter tyrant rotting away in his mansion no doubt; same way he left him when he stole his research and dropped off the grid. He walked back towards the edge and said "forgive me Phylicia" as he looked down at the elixir in regret. The jewel lit up in vibrant purple color and made a flowing aura all around his body. He couldn't move a muscle.

_"Ventetid, hva tilsikter du å gjøre? Jeg ga Erkeopp fordi jeg ble antatt til ! Det er all del av planen, men jeg er sikker du visste det allerede."_

(Wait, what do you intend to do? I gave Archer up because I was supposed to! It's all part of the plan, but I'm sure you knew that already.)

Odin's jewel finally spoke in the words of the seven Architects. The language consisted of Norse, Swedish, Danish, Finnish, all arriving on the same page that Alex's time as a human was over. It turned out they've hugged every inch of him, rendering him unable to fight or flight. This new strain of Progenitor was a curse to turn Alex into a vessel and sleep inside a mutated monster, one that has not been watching over his Progenitor Virus for some time, saw him research in how to get it out of his body and become one with the elixir. The Architects extracted their labors from the roots of his veins, manipulating it into a flowing jell. Its newfound contents surrounded him and haven't been seen since the golden age of Norse Mythology.

Their will was just, and the deed was already done with the allure of the jewel calming the beast's mind. Alex was theirs now, and with this act of justifying the means for the sake of putting someone more worthy of the jewel, Archer Kurinthian's first act as an eighth Architect was to put a stop to the rainstorm. Suddenly, jell surrounding Alex unleashed a hail of purple energy that splintered every inch of the structure holding the Vault.

14


	11. Part X: A test of deja vu

Temple of Kurinthian

Part X: A test of deja vu

The skies outside went dark; thunder was all that was left to pose a potential danger to Carlos and the rest of the group. As Carlos was scavenging for a new weapon, he reminded everyone else there wasn't a whole lot of time to learn about the Sanctum's history. Kelley was tending to Abigail as both were looking through books to find a way to end the storm. However, Phylicia felt something was different in the air. That was when it hit her that Alex made the sacrifice for his namesake; it was inevitable. Phylicia came across a red curtain on the far corner where the head of Jormungandr was replicated and placed as a trophy, along with other trinkets that played a role in Ragnarok.

She looked behind to see everyone looking through other things before going in. On the other side lied a desk with three special items: a letter whom she recognized Alex's handwriting from, a long, weapon case that was in the shape of a spear of some sort, and a vital artifact. Just before she was about to open the letter, the curtain swung wide open. She got startled for a second.

"Sorry about that. The storm stopped. We can cross those bridges when we're ready." He said with her acknowledging the fact. "Look I uh, there's no way of me knowing what your father's going through over there. We'll get to him."

"I know we will. We have been trapped here for too long. Can you give me a minute? We've been running so much my brain is still trying to catch up. I'll join you guys shortly."

"Sure thing." Carlos smiled.

Carlos gave her space while he continued to look for a weapon. He went around the group, asking them how they were holding up. Damien wasn't suffering any more hallucinations; apart from a migraine he was getting he was still holding. It was both a miracle for both him and Carlos; how could a seventeen year old survive any of the ordeals he's encountered since entering Norway? He couldn't answer regardless.

As for Cara, she was looking through items that looked to have come from the late nineties. Ink ribbons for one. To her for some reason, this item in particular seemed vital in Raccoon City, like they were a godsend to those who managed to survive it. Another item was four zip lock bags that were filled with red, green, yellow, and blue herb dust. She then picked up a pair of black sunglasses that had a certain curiosity to them. When she tried them on, her eyes showed her a devastating image of the world.

It was burning with red and white fire; snakes from those two colors came slithering out of the burnt craters and consumed endless human lives. Cara tossed the glasses away immediately. Monica managed to find two swords called the Gram and the Balmung. She wasn't too picky on weapons at this point. The Gram sword was made out Sidgurd stones; it was dense and sharp enough to take on Alex if need be. As for the Balmung, Nothung as it was depicted in the 13th century, looked more like a Sultan's sword. She called Cara over to check them out. For someone like Abigail to remain eerily quiet when looking through books with Kelley, it was both understandable and strange at the same time. Kelley tried breaking the ice.

"He kept me safe the whole time we were together. We literally went through hell to get to this place." She spoke nervously with silence following after. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't..."

"I've no doubt he was a brave man. He can sure surprise you sometimes. It puzzles me as to why we were brought here in the first place."

"Guess we won't find out. The temple's gone now; it's underwater from the storm. What was it like being here?"

"Quiet most of the time; I've never met Archer Kurinthian but whoever he was he did save my life. I kept busy staring at trinkets and old books depicting Norse history. You can learn a lot in here when you have nothing but time. Did um...did Ethan go peacefully?" She asked holding back tears.

"After all that's happened, he did find some peace. Before he…left he told me to tell you he loved you more than anything. It's not much."

"It's enough. I'll mourn once we get out of here." Abigail said finding a couple books based on how the temple was built.

Looking through piles of throw-away antiques, Carlos found an old radio hidden in the back of old coins and doubloons. Looking at its contents it wasn't an old radio; it wasn't even one of those tuning radios from the fifties. He turned it over and it had a Russian inscription. It brought him back to when he confronted Nicholai in the Citadel. He didn't think anything of it at the time, knowing full well in what he had planned for his old comrade in arms. It was dinged up a good deal, but he tried his luck in turning it on to see if it still worked. Static from the radio pulled out all the stops and it clicked in his head to contact the rescue choppers who were probably getting close to the temple's location. He called everyone over as he was tuning the frequency to get into contact with one of the rescue pilots named Gavin. Carlos went on and got Gavin's attention; for the moment everyone cheered that they weren't going to be stranded forever.

"_Damn_ glad to hear from you, Gavin!" Carlos said.

"_Oliveira; son of a…I knew you wouldn't get killed; never doubted it for a second."_

"_Aw shit, I lost $40." _A second pilot brought up with laughter on that same line.

"_How are things down there?"_

"We're about to head for the Vault now. The storm stopped so you should be able to fly on in."

"_We're seven miles away from reaching the two main structures. You said before there were other people with you?"_

"Yeah, I got six with me, but two will stay behind for rescue. One's a young girl named Kelley and a woman named Abigail. They're both prison survivors from the Vessel."

"_Understood. I'll have Conklin pick them up."_

_"You're a lifesaver, amigo." _

_ "You best get a move on then, man. Bury that elixir alive so we can all go home."_

"You heard the man. Take whatever you found as a weapon and let's move. Time's officially against us now." Carlos announced to everyone.

All except Phylicia gathered their things and made their one last journey to the Vault. What lied guarding it was beyond them, but there was no other choice. The goal still stood for each of them, and all accepted to make sure the elixir didn't leave Norway. Kelley told Monica to be careful and kick some ass at whatever was coming at her.

"You got it, kid." She smiled and hugged her. "Protect yourself ok? This has been one hell of a trip."

"When this is over, you think we can hang out; as friends?" Kelley asked as Monica paused for a response.

"We'll see. See you on one of them helicopters."

She then told Abigail to watch out for Kelley. She wished her good luck. Carlos was the last to leave until he saw Phylicia walking out of the red curtain, containing a weapon she found it seemed. Her face was filled with regret and was asked if she was ready for the final stretch. She simply told him she was ready. Carlos went on ahead as she went over to Kelley and gave her a memento of the temple.

Praising its craftsmanship, Phylicia told her the Vanirian Scion reverses imprisoned curses; "you never know" she told her looking at Abby. They were all out on the bridge to be welcomed with semi-dark clouds and no strong winds attempting to cast them into the sea. It was a miracle to know the bridges were still sturdy enough to walk. Phylicia had a piece of old parchment crumpled in her hand; she then saw the floating body of Morpheus moving under the bridge. She looked down for a split second and kept moving.

The Odin Jewel altered the foundation of the Vault. On the outside, its' structure remained the same. Inside, it went from a housing room holding the elixir to a claustrophobic battlefield riddled with First Remnant undead standing with conviction under the jewel's command. They all surrounded a diamond encrusted cocoon which held a monstrous version of Alex inside. The Architects selflessly invited Archer as one of their own while selfishly condemning him to utilize the elixir's powers to make Alex pay for what he did since his intrusion in the temple years before. He chose not to take the jewel's power for his own; that didn't mean there was still a high price to pay for not taking.

Like they told him, damned if took it, damned if he didn't. Each First Remnant looked more advanced, more capable; the key Alex has been trying to perfect. In the right light, they can present the look of damaged human beings as opposed to acting like creatures of the night. They still contained the abilities of the weaker undead; they don't require flesh or a master to survive. Their fighting techniques were of a savage nature; which would make parting their embryotic sacs from their chests more difficult for the human survivors.

They all surrounded the cocoon in wait for their leader to reemerge. The eight Architects spoke through various languages about how Alex would never be human again, and that his punishment would be something of great irony to his past. If Archer had been killed before the ashes of his body had been carried into the jewel, he would have been an enslaved monster with little to no strength to defend himself. However, twists were a common thing in Norway's most prized monument, and fates have never been really set in stone. The Architects saw to that when they devoted their life force to the jewel itself. They gave him one last task before the Vault meets its burial at sea: kill his Progeny; the White Queen of the temple. After that, his will was to perish and never return.

Reaching the Vault's main structure, everyone was standing on a platform that was going to take them to the top. It was half submerged in water so Phylicia swam down to find the lever to raise it. Looking around, she suddenly was getting vibes that were trembling from every inch of the woodwork: who was guarding the Vault, what happened to Alex, but no sign of her father's life force. She was still physically weaker after the ship crashing into the Sanctum; she then felt she would have to push and act fiercer than before. Once she pulled the lever on the platform, she swam immediately back up to the surface and told everyone to get on.

The path way was covered in darkness. Whenever encountering the same feeling in the temple there was always that feel of someone or something was watching them right. In Carlos's case, when he found himself walking in a dark place with only a dim flashlight and a sense of hearing trying to be mentally heightened, there would be undead crawling and limping. In Raccoon City, he would somehow get a warning when a zombie was going to pop out from behind a broken street corner; a deep snarl or a monotonous groan. But in the temple he got ambushed four times by undead because they didn't make a sound.

Their feet were quiet, and there would be a shift in the wind whenever a zombie went hunter mode watching its' prey from a dank ceiling. With Phylicia on their side, she estimated no undead in the area. All five entered through the unknown that was the prelude to the Vault's contents with keeping their footing as slow and quiet as possible. Cara was the only of the group to still have her handgun after everything that has happened, and the flashlight from it was still working. She moved to the front of everyone and took point while moving at the same pace as the group. As they drew closer and closer they were able to see the Vault's main door; a thirty foot tall square shaped contraption made of limestone mortar.

"_We're almost there, people. Keep this up." _Carlos told everyone quietly.

"_It's too quiet in here. Phylicia, can you sense anything?" _Cara asked.

"_Something is blocking my foresight; keep all five of your senses open." _She replied.

The silence they were treading in was too eerily disturbing for anyone's taste. Carlos kept his senses open and another vibe hit him harder the second time around. He was feeling déjà vu; like he experienced this feeling before, but it was just a question if he encountered it in the temple or in the past life. Then his heart beating jumped to his throat when he felt only two people were walking with him and Damien and Monica were nowhere within grabbing distance. He gripped his axe tightly as he slowly turned his head, followed by a sudden familiar roar and got sent flying into more darkness.

On his back, sweating and the fast beating of his heart went faster when he was looking frantically everywhere in the dark. Suddenly, he took a chance by swinging the axe in front of him; nothing happened except cutting air. He got on one knee and swung a second time, this time behind him, and another roar sent the place trembling as his weapon was grabbed. He couldn't see the monster's face, but it uttered "S.T.A.R.S." in a familiar surly tone. He couldn't believe it.

The axe was snatched away and he was kicked full force to another part of the Vault's entrance. As soon as he opened his eyes he was brought before an unknown figure that referred to himself as Maestro. This time however, it was in one of the carts of a moving train. It looked familiar to him, but the people inside it were out of place. His former comrade in arms, Nicholai was giving orders to both an injured Mikhail and Carlos when he was a mercenary for Umbrella. Jill Valentine was there too. Carlos in the present tense tried getting up from his seat when Maestro wanted him to see what he was seeing.

"What is this?" Carlos asked.

"_The past is a haunting thing. You can kill many bio organic weapons in many different countries. That type of trauma is something no amount of therapy can fix. I speak only to you Carlos; you are the only human among the group to have encountered a monster like this. Your connection to it is stronger than the undead I have created."_

"The Nemesis…how could you…how does that thing still live? It was destroyed in..." He said before getting interrupted.

"_Raccoon City. Yes, everything that has taken horrific precedence there still revolves around its' survivors to this day, until the end of their days. Umbrella may be ash, but that does not stop other businessmen to formulate their own corporate schemes to achieve what Umbrella has been trying to reach since its' inception. To truly expel these nightmares from our minds, we must take a stand when a viral outbreak arises. Yet, no matter how many outbreaks can be solved by a simple rocket launcher and little faith in making it, Umbrella's evil is infinite. I realize that now. It is too late for me to fight back anymore."_

"Alex Wesker. What happened to you?"

"_What "great" men before me have turned into: abominations of their own selfish desires. Like Archer Kurinthian's temple, I too am long gone. The Architects have full control of the Valhallan Elixir now. All these years, I wanted to prove to my father that human beings can strive to be more than they are if we all can find a common solution. I have never stopped fighting my cursed past; Venezia…Phylicia knows this. When all this is over, only her will truly understand my ambition."_

"She's a remarkable woman; told me about you too. You've helped her reclaim the dignity the Ashford Family took. That's why I'm not attempting to rip your head off. So where do we stand?"

Alex asked him to look to his left. Carlos was greeted by none other than Nemesis himself. He was a ten foot tall behemoth of a monster with a shark smile and one eye. Carlos looked ahead and only saw Mikhail left with a grenade being held close to him. Nemesis grabbed him and restrained him against one of the train's windows.

"_He's been dying to have a second go at you. Let's see if history can repeat itself." _Alex said before Carlos got thrown out of the train.

He screamed at the top of his lungs while being dropped into a stormy abyss with the sound of an explosion taking out the train above him. Landing back in the Vault's entrance, his spine became bruised with no weapon to defend himself from Nemesis. Undead began limping out of the corners, but they weren't temple undead. He recognized a few of them: dead RPD cops, soldiers from S.T.A.R.S; he rolled over to get some traction in getting back on his feet. Then a gunshot went off thus killing one of T-Virus zombies. He turned around and saw Jill in spirit form. One by one each zombie got taken out by a headshot.

For some reason, Carlos tried getting her attention. She ran through him and kept shooting until he heard _"STAAAARRRSSS!" _He went scrambling for the axe he lost then suddenly Jill got pierced in her left thigh by one of its tentacles. Blood was spilling all around her; Carlos was starting to lose it at that point. However, she took out her one grenade she was saving and tossed it at a group of seven zombies, killing four instantly and leaving three hungering for flesh as they crawled their way over to her. Another tentacle went through her lower abdomen. At that moment, Carlos couldn't move and couldn't bear to see her in such tragic conditions.

Her eyes became loosely fixed on his as she moved away from the tentacle and stabbed it with her own knife. One zombie landed a surprise attack while she flipped him over and spent her last bullet in his head. The third time, the bloody tentacle went through her neck, leaving her cold and motionless on the ground. His inner rage increased with every passing second as he finally found his axe. He looked behind him and saw the Nemesis in full view standing over Jill. It raised its left foot and hovered over her head, snarling and taking in its small pleasures.

That was when Carlos jumped on top of him and began chopping profusely into his chest, bringing him back to the reality that had everyone else including Phylicia trapped in stone. The Nemesis grabbed him by the back of his armor and threw him five feet away. He quickly retracted and Nemesis punched a hole in the ground, leaving him stuck. Carlos raised his weapon, ducked his other fist, and nearly cutting off a limb without hesitation. He roared but Carlos wasted no time sending another chop through its mouth. Pulling it away violently soon after, Nemesis head butted him and suffered a swinging right hook in his stomach, sending him flying once more. His eyes bulged and couldn't breathe while the claustrophobia of darkness crept closer and closer, surrounding him but refused to give up. Even then he still had some fight in him…somewhere.

"So that's what a punch from the Nemesis feels like." He said grunting in pain while on the ground. "If only Barry were here; he would have taken care of this fight five seconds flat."

As the gritty duel of repeated history continued, the storm cleared outside the temple. Flight paths were given clear reign for helicopters to fly on in. Kelley was looking at the scion; it was within the context of a circular key with a sequent encrusted cross at its base with a sky blue griffon on top of it made out of sapphire. From what Phylicia told her before she left was that the scion was able to reverse curses placed on the innocent. She didn't tell the others because time was running against them. Abigail took a long glance at the object and was curious as she liked the history behind it.

"The Vanirian Scion: crafted by Lord Aesir during the second age of the nine realms being aligned with Yggdrasil. Did you know the first majestic creature to have flown around the tree three times was a griffon? I assume that's the animal symbol on the front there."

"Yeah, I forgot. You were living in a place full of wonder." Kelley chuckled as she joined in.

"It wasn't easy as you've already known. But the Vessel spoke to me sometimes, kept me sane in the first months I've been here."

"I was trapped by Archer along with Ethan. I want to hate him; I wanted to hate the people who took me away from my family. It's too tiresome really."

"The others; I haven't met them long but I feel they are capable in making a final stand."

"Monica is." Kelley brought up. "She's been a survivor her whole life. If she wasn't there to break us out…I wasn't ready to die."

Both heard distant rumbling coming from the outside. They went out onto the bridge and Kelley released a big smile that the three helicopters Carlos spoke with on the old radio were actually coming to their rescue. Suddenly, Abigail disappeared from her sight along with the Scion as well. Kelley ran back inside the Sanctum to look for her. Everywhere she looked it was making her nervous. It wasn't until she heard mortified breathing coming from where the empty show cases that housed special books used to be. She found an old knife on the ground and kept it concealed when she found her. Abigail was whimpering as the Scion was a few inches away from her feet. Kelley picked it up and tried calming her down.

"It's okay. It's only me." She said putting the scion in her side pocket. "Those helicopter people Carlos spoke to before, they're coming to our rescue. We'll be safe."

"It's not that, honey." Abigail said with a cold sweat running down. "Why did the Red Queen do this to me?!"

"Did what?" She asked.

"I was safe. Archer took me away from the trauma and despair. Maeori was everywhere, looking for her sister, Venezia."

"The Red Queen's dead. What are you on about?"

"Kelley, listen to me. When I lose myself, you will need to say three words to turn me back to normal." Abigail went on when her body went jaded. "Remember these words: KJETTERI være slukket!"

Suddenly, Abigail went nuts when her body moved in different places with rib bones breaking in unnatural ways. Kelley moved away from her with knife and Scion in hands; she then ascended up into the dark ceiling with a painful cry before everything went silent; literally silent. It was as if the helicopters heading their way weren't coming at all. She took out the rusty knife and treaded carefully to find whatever was tearing Abbey apart from the inside. Normally, a little girl would have screamed and ran away from the face of danger. That would've been the realistic thing to do; too bad for a haunted temple things weren't so realistic.

Having retained some of his natural breathing patterns, Carlos stood up with darkness surrounding him, no snarl or surprise attack from the Nemesis. One light shined over a stone structure, revealing the shape of Cara. Then another showed Damien, Monica, and finally Phylicia. He was confused and was scrambling in his head on what the hell happened to them. Then it hit him: the Architects. Alex told him through supernatural means he had no further control over the Vault or what protects its contents.

With no explanation or hints on how to free them, suddenly the entire entrance lit up like a fighting stage. Its corners were still dark, and Nemesis was still nowhere to be found; not even blood traces on the ground when he chopped away at both chest and mouth. The stone prisons for each survivor levitated in the air, showing cracks in the foundation presented in a way if one of them fell on the ground the survivor would be killed instantly. Footsteps were shaking the ground Carlos was on followed by a scratchy, dragging sound of a big weapon following behind him. The Nemesis was shown with mutated, rippling muscles with the lower body covered with the attire of the Raccoon City version of the BOW. Behind him was him carrying a large, swinging mace. Its shark-like smile indicated he was going to enjoy watching Carlos suffer.

"Great, a ten foot ugly pile driver back from the dead, and is carrying a mace that can take half this place apart in one swing. That's really freaking swell. Hey big guy, where's your chain gun?" He asked before Nemesis roared at the ready to swing his weapon. "I just had to open mi boca grande."

Carlos dodged the first swing of the mace after it went up seven feet in the air and drove it down to the ground full force, sending the structure uneasy. The mace retracted back to its' thick baton Nemesis was holding. He ran towards Carlos as he dodged out of the way, followed by getting kicked in his spine. He held out his axe and charged at the Nemesis as it dropped his weapon and lifted Carlos in mid-air. As luck would have it, things weren't going his way. He didn't see a way to pierce his chest and reveal the embryotic sac he hoped was inside. Nemesis brought Carlos's face closer to his and what came out of his mouth was deeply disturbing; something he didn't expect from fighting the first Nemesis with Jill.

"_Valentine, your past reeks of her image. I died in Raccoon City when it should have been YOU!"_

"He can talk? Is there anything he can't do?" He asked himself."Leave the past outta this!"

"_You and the girl destroyed my city. You took down Umbrella, decimated for all it stood for. I will enjoy feasting on your bones."_

Carlos dropped the axe into his free hand and chopped mid-way into the monster's right arm. He dropped back on the ground and tried lifting the mace with to no avail of succeeding. He then ran around and sliced the back of its shins, rendering it to his knees. He made quick work of its back by chopping profusely five times before climbing on. Nemesis grabbed his hair and launched him forward. He took his mace and sent it straightforward a good eight feet towards Carlos. He jumped out of the way and the mace broke through the side of the structure, making it stuck in the foundation. He had one more trick he was willing to get out of the way, praying to the lord almighty it would work. Standing on top of the chain holding the mace together, bloodied and tired, he gave the Nemesis his last rites.

"Umbrella created you. They used you for the things you've done. Many have tried taking you out: Jill, Nicholai, Mikhail, me. Yeah, my past does reek of my time as a mercenary in Raccoon City. You and I are both relics to be hated and feared by all who survived that night. But monsters like you don't get a second chance." He went on as the chain moved fiercely forward. "There's no way out right? You got me."

The mace retracted back as Carlos leaped away with all of his might to the right just as it was going to make its face into mincemeat. The Nemesis shot out a tentacle from the back of his left shoulder blade and twisted it around the circular ball of doom. Suddenly, his other arm shot out another tentacle that acted like swinging blades, and shook the ground on impact. He growled fearfully and got into a defensive stance. Gripping his axe like he was an actual warrior, he readied himself for round two.

"Say goodbye to my comrades when you meet them in hell." He said charging at him.

Luck finally arrived at the submerged temple's doorstep. Three helicopter pilots: Conklin, Gavin, and Jules were circulating around the two main structures holding the human survivors. The main pilot running the rescue operation, Gavin, wanted a sit rep on the Sanctum's insides to see if there were any human signatures coming up on radar. Conklin confirmed two life forms were present, but one was a bioorganic weapon. Then suddenly, he got a visual on the two life forms high tailing it out on the bridge.

One was Kelley running for her life. She saw the helicopters forming a way to box Abigail in as she was slowly mutating into whatever Maeori turned her into. Her body wasn't really human anymore. It was moving like a predator, growing thick claws and her forehead growing over her eyes. But the distinct mutated trait Gavin was able to confirm was a B.O.W. that was once a plague in the Raccoon City Police Department during the T-Virus outbreak: the Lickers. Abigail's tongue went thin and sagged over her mouth. She begged Kelley to say the words so she wouldn't turn into a monster. Kelley's mind was rattled and was struggling to remember the three crucial words to reverse the curse. As soon as Gavin saw it, he had a rifleman get one of the sniper rifles to take care of the B.O.W. Suddenly his helicopter became lopsided when Abigail lashed out her mutated tongue as it latched onto the bottom of the chopper.

"_Focus man focus...!" _Gavin told his gunner. "_We're not dying after all this time!"_

"_Hang on, I got it!" _Jules shouted.

Kelley had the words finally embedded in her head and on the tip of her tongue. She held out the Scion and said the words, "KJETTERI være slukket!" The sapphire griffon from the Scion lit up, and something magical grabbed everyone's eyes while the pilots got blinded from its light. The spirit of the griffon stepped away from its symbol and inhabited Abigail's body. She screamed as the curse was scratching and tearing to leave her. A mild shockwave sent the bridge they were on completely unsteady, but the effect took merely ten seconds to take full effect. When the light cleared, Kelley ran over to her to see if she was human again. Gavin was demanding responses from Conklin and Jules. They were whole and skyward.

"You did it." Abigail told her. "The curse is lifted."

"What was that thing?" She asked her.

"Sometimes the past just keeps coming back." She replied. "When we're out of here, I'll tell you more about the Vanirian Scion."

"_One of the survivors is back to normal; preparing for extraction." _Conklin said descending next to the bridge.

_"How in the hell...?!" _Jules asked in shock.

_"Yeah, I can't describe it either." _Conklin replied.

An evacuation pilot was sitting in front waiting to get Kelley and Abbey on board. Conklin confirmed to have his survivors and made his exit away from the temple's area. As the chopper was making its way to a safe zone in another part of Norway, Kelley looked intimately into the scion to relish in a personal victory in helping out. Abbey took a look at it as well and was willing to study it to see what it can do for other people. Though she did not fully know what it was truly capable of, one thing for certain was that the scion reversed ancient curses. Maybe it would help infectees too she thought.

The shockwave from the scion made the Nemesis lightheaded; so much he couldn't sense his surroundings too well. Carlos took advantage by slicing off one of its tentacles, but the other slammed his face with him landing hard on the ground. He flipped over and just when the second tentacle was about to choke the life out of him, he took hold and sliced the other one off as well. This gave Carlos a clear shot to its chest. He sent the axe through thus opening his chest cavity open to reveal three embryotic sacs filled with enriching amounts of elixir inside.

He pulled one sac out and chopped it to pieces to make sure its juices gushed out. He sliced one of the other sac supports and pulled it out just as quickly, performing the same motion as the first one. When he had both his hands on the last sac, Nemesis roared so loudly the entire structure was suffering from an earthquake. Carlos pushed through just barely, and ripped the last one out with whatever strength he had left at that point. Elixir exploded and gushed all over him. The roaring stopped and the Nemesis fell on his back with no dying breath to fuel his satisfaction. He dropped to his knees while offering his victory to his fallen comrades, especially Mikhail. The other four survivors got their bodies back from being in stone. Phylicia saw him standing up; she ran to help him.

"You look like hell." She told him looking at the Nemesis. "The Vault's guard is finally gone."

"That was fun if we're being honest. Before meeting Damien and Cara I've done nothing but tip toe around zombies, kill my sergeant in arms, and shoot a few undead along the way." He replied looking at her concerned expression. "Maybe I should get tossed around more often."

"No, I prefer you whole." She said kissing him on the cheek.

"Now_ this_ is historic." Monica said meeting the others. "Who says you can't find love in a dark and homey place?"

"I think I've seen everything on this trip." Damien said stretching his arms and neck, coming across the Nemesis' corpse. "I take that back."

"I'll say." Cara said agreeing with him. "Whew, what a way to go. That's the second time we got trapped in something."

"We were encased in Glacier-Stone: Jotunheim origin. It placed us in mental suspension; the brain would still function while the body remains dormant. During Odin's rule, he and the Frost Giants waged war that should have spanned throughout the nine realms. The Aesir gained the upper hand, forcing Jotunheim in a standstill. Since that day, the pathway between Asgard and Jotunheim was an easy path to travel. Anyone captured by the Frost Giants would be trapped in stone for all eternity."

"Like Han Solo being carbon frozen in _Empire Strikes Back_." Carlos brought up. "What? I've developed hobbies other than being good looking and killing zombies."

"Sit tight..." Phylicia smiled, patting him on the back. "Your brainwaves need to be realigned."

"They are right where they are, senorita." Carlos said in delirium.

All that stood between the human survivors and the Valhallan Elixir was the Vault's main door. Its guard was dead; Alex's demons and monsters were all washed away, and with the Temple destroyed and underwater there was no turning back for more supplies. Phylicia went up to the Vault and sensed what they were up against. All Monica wanted to know was if Alex Wesker was on the other side. She had her axe ready and was raring to kill the son of a bitch who killed Monroe, Terrell, and Ethan. Phylicia insisted they were going to take him on together.

By "them" she meant herself confronting Alex while the others dealt with the First Remnants which she told them they were the key to what made the elixir so impossible to obtain. Not only were these creatures immortal, but given a few more years, they could go from looking like a monster to a human being in no time, even take on other shapes that have haunted people in past outbreaks, but she was getting ahead of herself. Monica didn't care. She felt she waited too long for an opportunity to teach Alex a lesson; Cara knew this to be true thus the reason she didn't say anything to object her goal. Damien on the other hand, insisted they didn't know what Alex was capable of. He was nearly beaten to death by his first confrontation with him in Phylicia's domain so he wanted to handle the situation carefully if he had any chance in getting back home. It was long overdue to see his grandmother; dead or alive he stressed to Monica. Her mind couldn't take all this waiting around and strategizing. She wanted out as much as anyone did in that hole. Suddenly, Cara apologized to her out of the blue.

"What'd you say to me?" Monica asked.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not believing you would grow as a person here. I didn't even like you the moment we set down for Norway. After seeing you with Kelley and Ethan…I thought I was seeing things the whole time. I was wrong."

"No you don't get to do that. You have no idea what those two went through; what I went through to get them out. Ethan's gone and Kelley's still trapped in that Sanctum."

"Maybe not, Damien chimed in, that pilot Carlos talked to on the radio. They weren't far away from the temple. They must've picked her and Abigail up by now."

"I know them: Conklin, Gavin, and Jules. They were my aerial support when I got contracted down here. They have no love for Umbrella so that should tell you something." Carlos said.

"We got to stay positive, Monica. We've come way too far to be fighting amongst ourselves. This is it." Cara explained to her. "After this, we'll never see each other again."

"Your father would be proud of you." Phylicia told her when Monica looked at her with shock. "He didn't deserve what happened to him in Raccoon City. But now we have a chance to set things right. It's all or nothing."

Monica went up to Phylicia after lowering her weapon. Feeling confident about what was at stake, she shook her hand with a sense of understanding in her eyes.

"Together then; we bury that elixir once and for all." Monica promised looking her in the eye.

"Then we return home; all five of us." She promised back.

12


	12. Part XI: Liberation

Temple of Kurinthian

Part XI: Liberation

Carlos saw three things glowing in the already rotting carcass of the Nemesis. He went over with a sudden impulse to throw up. He reached down and lifted one key; a replicated gem in the shape of a person. Reaching down further he pulled up another gem made in the shape of a beast with another in the shape of a small, rectangular canvas of a child being talked down to by a higher being with the Norse language, "Slave to God." He got them over to Phylicia and she took them to the Vault's door.

She closed her eyes and levitated each key up in the air. It showed three projections of each key having a correlation with each other. The beast represented "tyranny" in a cliché way, standing above two pray tells about to conduct a violent confrontation between the key in the shape of a woman and the slave being forced to kill her against his will. The latter two keys made their first moves and the entire Vault became covered in red eyes. The door finally opened thus at last making the discovery of the Valhallan Elixir. As the door opened, a blinding light coming from Odin's jewel reflected both hope and condemnation; in Phylicia's eyes anyway.

She had a feeling in what was about to happen was inevitable when going up against Alex, wherever he was. The elixir's inner chambers changed the last time she laid eyes upon it. It went from a tall structure guarding its power source to becoming more like a closed premise to a theater of war. Everyone was standing on the edge of a stairway leading to a platform overlooking the elixir, and the jewel hovering in the middle.

"We finally made it inside." Carlos said.

"About time; it looks abandoned. Where's Alex?" Damien puzzled.

"Who cares? We'll confront that bastard once we bury the elixir." Monica said going down the stairs with weapon ready.

"Monica...!" Cara called out to her.

"Let her go. The First Remnants won't hurt her as long as I'm alive."

"You mean the ones up there?" Carlos asked looking up.

Hundreds of First Remnant undead was lying in wait in a predator seeking position on the ceiling. Phylicia told the others to stay back for a minute while she went down to guide Monica. Looking up was a nightmare in itself; each Remnant was in the shape of a man and beast. The only thing was Alex didn't make them with the Progenitor Virus. Their bodies were well preserved as opposed to the graves defiled from cemeteries around Norway. Those zombies wouldn't have been able to last long against capable fighters knowing their weak spots.

If it were under any other circumstance, namely the outside world, it would have been a horrific biohazard. Like the Remnants, their viral strain was virtually untraceable. They can be riddled with bullets and wouldn't go down; they could get blown up by a grenade or an RPG and would still grow back. If anyone on the illegal side of business ever got their hands on the elixir, until the weak spot could be exploited no other B.O.W. can match up to what they're capable of. However, for the First Remnants their embryotic sacs are riddled with neuron toxin; a paralyzing agent for any human limb caught touching it.

Unknown to Carlos and the others, Alex gave Phylicia complete control over the Remnant followers. It was a gift to her knowing the significance behind the elixir's power as opposed to Maeori's understanding back when her sarcophagus was taken by the Ashford family. Drawing closer to the platform, both came across broken diamond shards with traces of elixir blood. There was no sign of her father, but then foresight hit her like a lightning bolt "Get out of the way!" she told Monica. One of the Remnants dropped down with a mind to consume the living until Phylicia acted by jumping within its proximity, and kicked it away from Monica.

Monica readied her axe as one Remnant after another began dropping on their feet for their last rumble before the entire structure came down. Everyone else ran down the stair way to defend them when she ordered the other Remnants to cease what they were about to do, stating her title and commanding them to not hurt the others. Then she was feeling a tugging presence from the jewel; her eyes became fixated on its alluring glow. She was able to sense an eighth Architect along with the seven who had a piece of their souls inhabited into the jewel itself. It spoke to her in one voice, her father's voice, telling her not to be alarmed.

It was all part of the plan he told her, but she had no idea what plan that was. She didn't have a surprise expression at the time when her eyes were open to this circumstance beforehand. He tried to reason with Alex to not take Odin's Jewel; in the end Archer's life force became one with the Norse Architects. She held the staff and demanded Alex to show himself.

"_It had to be done." _Alex's voice rumbled. _"You know me, Phylicia. You knew my efforts in putting my "father" to shame was all for nothing. I…have awoken a mistake, and created a solution."_

"My father of all people; his body was trapped in that vessel because of you, and he still trusted you!"

"_I come from an evil legacy; a Wesker Legacy. For years I have rejected all that it stood for. That was the reason I came here, soiled my name in trying to redeem it. You and your father were the only people to see this temple without corrupted eyes."_

"Is there any way to get him out that jewel?"

"_The Architects accepted him as an eighth of their kin. He cannot be set free by conventional means."_

"Phylicia, what's he talking about?" Monica asked.

Suddenly, her body was inhabited by a destructive aura that placed her in a controlling state. Whether or not it was temporary nobody knew. Monica went back to the group as the Remnants surrounded them. Alex continued by saying how his mind had never been so clear; the elixir had shown him so much that he couldn't have a cohesive vision of the future. He praised the help of the Architects by helping him see such a future that took place in the Vault's final moments.

It was foretold five warriors will face an eclipse of what only the elixir can offer. Only two survived while the other two are sitting near the edge of death. Alex, where ever he was or what he had become, felt impatience in seeing how the future was going to play out. Filled with grief and driven with anger on what happened to her father, Phylicia became manipulated and was shown two quick images of the humans who were going to die: Damien and Cara. They would hold their own while Alex indulged in a confrontation against his protégé, when an "accident" befalls upon one of the two survivors trying to do the right thing. Carlos had heard enough of bullshit fortunetelling and took action getting Phylicia to come back to him.

"So two humans; one that has no place in Umbrella's shadow and the other is haunted by its past."

"Phylicia, listen to me!" Carlos implored her standing in her way. "The Alex you knew a long time ago is gone now. Don't listen to him."

"For once your ego is in the right place, Carlos. Your voice can melt the hearts of many ladies in your path. Yet, you think of me as a passionate companion." She replied placing her left hand on his right cheek. "Do you believe Jill Valentine will ever see you as more than some grunt from Umbrella?"

"Alex, what are you doing to her?" He told himself.

"Step aside Oliveira. Or, she said as the Remnants were surrounding him instead, we can end our fairytale in a hail of blood."

Monica swung her axe against her spinal cord. Before it reached the skin however, Phylicia grabbed the blade part with one hand and looked her dead in the eye as she wasn't fazed by the so-called stealth kill. Along with the axe, she was tossed against three Remnants and they were pent up for some human slaughtering. When they were dealing with her, Carlos ran up against her waist and restrained her on the ground. He ordered Damien and Cara to find some way to get rid of the jewel and keep the Remnants at arm's length to distract Phylicia from doing anything foolish.

He kept telling her to lure Alex away from his mind and fight for her own control, making claims they were not her enemy. She didn't want to hear it, and demonstrated her choice by attempting to bite into his neck, but then she held her teeth back two inches away from ripping cartilage. She exhaled a great deal and thrust him away from her body. She stood up with immense difficulty to fight back from mind control. Alex's power was a whole different league than hers, considering she wasn't as corruptible as Maeori. That was when she ran though dozens of Remnants standing in her way. She saw Cara first, but out of impulse Damien screamed Cara's name while jumping in front of her.

With claws extended from her fingertips, Phylicia left three, deep scars on his chest. Three long scars from the side of his chest moving like butter to his lower stomach in a diagonal direction. Damien couldn't breathe or get his bearings as to what just happened. His eyes went dark as he collapsed on the ground with blood flowing out. Monica cut off two heads of the Remnants before getting a clear view on what just happened.

She saw and smelled the blood dripping from Phylicia's claws, seeing Cara getting beaten the crap out of her. When she saw Damien on the ground, she lost it and gripped her axe tightly as she ran in hard to take down Phylicia, but first she dealt with the Remnants bashing Cara's skull. Suddenly, one Remnant sensed Monica's second foolish move and got her chin slanted by the harsh thrust of the axe's handle. She got up and jumped away and ducked when the axe was used against her. She then figured out the knife Carlos had given her when they were composing themselves after crashing into the Sanctum.

Monica then ducked and rolled under, and jabbed the knife into the Remnant's groin following with constantly stabbing its head. Cara barely got on all fours getting to Damien before the others had their feeding time. She grabbed her sword when six Remnants stood in front of her. She sliced one down with guts falling while making a second attempt which had put her in an uncomfortable position. Her sword was grabbed when suddenly Carlos broke through to assist with the ass kicking. While the three remaining souls were fending for their lives, Phylicia's eyes fixated on Damien's stiff body never moving a muscle. She couldn't believe what just happened. She felt she was beyond control from Alex when he gave her free reign as the White Queen. It gave her the ability to block out the impulse control to kill humans. What she read in the trophy room, things that were said, one thing was absolute: She had to sacrifice herself to stop the Architects from bringing the entire structure down on the others. Alex appeared in a totally different light as he walked up behind her, cursed by the Architects themselves.

"_Du har valgt med omhu min dronning. Din søster ville ha vært stolt."_

(You have chosen wisely my queen. Your sister would have been proud.)

"_Hva har skjedd med deg?"_

(What has happened to you?)

"_Min plan er nesten fullført. I nærheten av sirkelen." _Alex spoke in two voices.

(My plan is almost complete. Close the circle.)

Alex looked like a man defeated and nearly sent to oblivion by his own misdeeds. The Architects greeted him with a curse that contained a connection to his past. They combined two separate evils; one was from a tortured test subject that was highly potential for the G-Virus within the confines of his father's mansion. With no thought or purpose in how to be free from the shackles of Umbrella, she died along with Raccoon City while being cleansed of her demons. The other evil consisted with the claws of a mutated Hunter. This kept him capable of defending himself before the inevitable was to take him away, but the others didn't know about that end. At that point, Monica was hell bent on holding her own against the Remnants and Carlos keeping Damien away from danger. Seeing the jewel levitating over the elixir it gave him an idea.

Phylicia's head was focused, and her body in a calm yet still state, she thought back to what she read. Before she wanted to find another way, things were getting worse and worse since the human survivors first entered the temple. Now she had no choice. With the jewel firmly sighting light on her back and Alex about cut her in half with his claws, she took out her extending staff and quickly stuck it in Alex's jugular as she ran with nothing left to lose from her mind. Carlos couldn't get to her in time; she grabbed the jewel and fell into the elixir.

He picked up his sword and rejoined Monica and Cara killing off the Remnants the best way they could, but it was a losing battle considering every severe cut or slash on one of their limbs would heal and grow back. Carlos feared for the future if a virus like the ones they were fighting ever got released to the world. They couldn't die by bullets or melee weapons of any sort, and while still having embryotic sacs as their life source, anyone managing to cut their chest cavity open to retrieve it would get paralyzed. All three got continuously surrounded while they were trying to catch their breath.

"What's it take to kill these pricks?!" Monica shouted while chopping off another Remnant head.

"Help's should be here soon right Carlos?" Cara asked him.

"They should _be_ here by now." Carlos replied feeling frustrated while punching a Remnant and flipping him over. "Damn it Gavin. Where are you?"

With Conklin taking Kelley and Abigail back to one of their stationed medical facilities in Norway, Gavin and Jules formed a perimeter around the Vault's structure and blew open a hole at the top to extract the remaining survivors. Jules' gunman was about to toss down the flexible ladder when suddenly Gavin was receiving readings coming from the elixir. It was off-the-charts stuff. Sink or swim was the ultimatum in relying on Carlos to bury the elixir right then and there to prevent the next biohazard. Weirder things have happened during their careers, transporting mercenaries and civilians during the campaign to take down the Umbrella Corporation; joint facilities trying to resurrect its dark past and unleash a hundred Raccoon City crises and Rockfort Island incidents. The readings from his radar went from out of control to suddenly simmering down; hence the weirdness that was occurring in his head. He contacted Jules to see if he was getting the same reading. Both were wondering what the hell was going on in the Vault.

Fight or flight? It was a question Monica thought up when her body couldn't bear to take another hit from the Remnant. Cara was keeping but fading fast; a losing battle was being felt from every survivor. Damien was slipping away last time Carlos ran to check on him. Alex encountered a new fight with him on an open battlefield; Carlos slashed and slashed away until the very foundation of his sword broke in half. Alex grabbed him by his neck and slammed him onto the ground, lifting him back up soon after. Carlos returned the favor by throwing a few punches followed by a swift left kick to break his grip. He became extremely weary and was on the verge of giving up. With his new form compelling his mind to finish off the ex-mercenary, Alex held back for some reason. There was still a certain someone who had his back.

"It's all gone, Alex." Carlos said coughing out blood, feeling pain from every inch of himself. "Spare them please?"

"The apex of my solution has finally arrived." He said, lifting his foot and pushed his body down the platform. "It's funny; protecting the daughter of Kurinthian and putting an eighth Architect at the forefront was the sanest decision I have ever made. Your rescue team is here, Carlos. I can feel them." He replied raising his arms thus ceasing the attacks of the Remnants.

"I don't get it. You're a Wesker; means "liar" in Swahili or something. Your brother would have killed us all by now."

"Wesker is a plague of the past. I have already molded my future." Alex said before a light brewed behind him.

Human and Remnant alike were brought forth to witness the epitome of Alex's plan. He had been studying the temple and trying to combine the Progenitor Virus with the elixir for years. Dead end after the other, his mind was infected with harrowing words from both his father and brother, deeming him "unworthy" to be the successor of Ozwell Spencer. The fact at that very point, both were correct. He was unworthy to become the final stage in human evolution. However, he went at the human progression period from a different angle; something he was studying and formulating behind the scenes.

Taking Phylicia away from the pain and torture she endured in an abandoned temple years before Alex arrived himself, he felt a sense of longing towards her; a brotherly bond. Her condition to when he first met her indescribable: dirty, malnourished severely, mentally broken from the supposed loss of her father. In essence, she was a frail shell that would crack if looked at in a devious way. He took her on a journey in the temple to find solitude somewhere, gave her water and communicated with her as he would a child at first. Over time, he was turning into his father before his mind went mad with bitterness and isolation.

He taught her no human being was without a measure of worth. When Spencer turned to science to make his Wesker children virtually superior in every way, Alex turned to training her the old fashioned way. There was self-defense, companionship, a title taken from a White Queen who helped the Ice Queen Skadi defend her realm in Norse Mythos, basically teaching her everything he knew to make her whole again. Maeori was far removed from understanding reason, but the temple needed discipline to keep his newfound creatures in check. At one point, he hated Venezia for rebelling against his unfair ideals, to withheld the existence of her father from her.

"Great men who are born in power do not make sacrifices for the sake of others lower than them. They cast them away from their sight, and smite down their selfishness and enslave them to do their bidding." That was along the lines of Spencer's last words before he changed. The Umbrella Corporation didn't become a global pharmaceutical entity by helping people get better medically; that was just a plug line for the news media. Plummet their hidden depths, and you'll see mad men turning innocent souls into monsters, turn arrogant leaders to believing in a higher power.

That ended with Alex giving something his heritage would deem "blasphemous": Lending power and salvation from a prolonged prison to the only person who deserved it. With that act of selflessness in handing over his legacy to a person capable in using it the right way, he was finally free from his father's bond. They all saw his true purpose in the shape of a woman: Phylicia Kurinthian was resurrected from the graces of the Valhallan Elixir. The guidance and strength of her father from the jewel had her ready for one last confrontation.

"Is this good or bad?" Monica asked witnessing Phylicia's intimidating allure.

"Wow." Cara replied catching her breath. "I'd like to think this is a good thing." She said before hearing Damien coughing up blood. "Hang in there, Damien. You might be saved."

Phylicia established telepathy with the two rescue pilots hovering over the Vault's structure, deciding how to drop the ladders for Carlos and the others to get out of there. She spoke to Gavin and Jules to commence their rescuing regiment. Jules didn't believe it at first, but it was the White Queen Carlos told them about back when he still had a radio of his own. Jules didn't dawdle any longer so he told his gunman to lower the ladder hanging over the elixir. Once that was accomplished, Phylicia then spoke through Monica and Cara, stressing them to get both of themselves and Damien out of Norway while they still had the chance.

The Remnants sought advantage of their own. Phylicia's newfound power worked against them as if her father was right beside her. She lifted half of Alex's abominations in the air and reduced them to ash in matter of seconds. Monica pushed through the other half while suffering her right calf nearly getting sliced off, and helped carried Damien over to the platform. As they ran and walked past Phylicia, they felt safe for the first time in days. Cara got on the ladder first climbing to the top. The gunman got ahold of Damien's left arm grabbing him on board. When everyone else was ready to leave, Monica couldn't move her leg and saw something nasty growing out of it. "Come on! Get on the ladder!" Cara shouted at her. A tear came down her left eye as she stared at Cara, and turned away for a last stand.

"It's time, chica!" Carlos told her.

"I'm not going." She replied as he noticed her leg bleeding.

"Come on, I'll help you up!"

"Look at me, merc. I'm done." She said as the Remnants were getting closer and Phylicia keeping Alex at bay. "Look at them; can you imagine what would happen if one got out? My daddy would roll over in his grave if he saw me like this. I'll do my best to keep those shit heads away from you, Phylicia."

"You can't do..." Carlos said interfering before Phylicia stopped him.

_"Her leg won't be treated in time."_ She said telepathically as she was fighting Alex. _"She wants this, Carlos. I know you would do the same if it was for Jill. A warrior's death is better than nothing. Get as far away as you can."_

Not feeling right about leaving a poor soul behind, somewhere deep down he respected Monica's last wish to make a stand against monsters who killed her father in Raccoon City. Carlos was the only one left. Conklin was already out of the temple's hot zone when Gavin wanted to stay behind.

"_Are you out of your goddamn mind, man? His life readings are dropping. He's as good as dead."_

"_You don't know that. He's still down there. I won't leave him behind." _Gavin told him.

"_We have orders to take these kids back to the medical treatment center. One's in really bad shape. We need to leave now!"_

"_Then you go! I hired Oliveira to send this temple to the ground. I'm staying until the White Queen kills Alex Wesker so I can get their asses out of there alive."_

"…_Consider me halfway there." _Jules said flying away from the temple. _"Here's hoping this ends well."_

It has been one hell of a journey had by all who were involved. Mercenaries were getting eaten, prisoners were held captive for a justifiable purpose, two Queens running rampant, humans heading into an unknown fate with specs of hope in each they would make it out alive, meeting an old Nemesis that was thought to have died in Raccoon City. Leading up to this point, the objective was always simple. For Damien and the others it was to find the elixir and make sure it would never leave Norway, as for Carlos who was contracted to find both Kurinthian Queens, dead or alive, and bring them back for study. Their instructors from both sides were very vague on the details.

Then again, scenarios like this are not made clear until you're face-to-face with the source behind it all. Heck, even then that problem can be solved by using an RPG to wipe out the virus completely. However, things weren't that simple in a haunted temple. Carlos was still unaware of Alex's intentions when his personal answer stood before both of them as the White Queen reborn. Skin tone, muscle tone, beauty, fighting skills, everything was heightened thanks to inhabiting the jewel. The spirit of her father was within her, guiding both hands and mind, allowing her to deliver an honorable death to the Maestro of the temple. Carlos stood up with hand pressed against the right side of his rib cage, struggling to stand on his own two feet when looking at Phylicia didn't hurt as much as the rest of his body did.

Both he and Alex stood next to each other as Alex told him the final stage of evolution was in deity form. As for the First Remnants, she and Monica made short work of their existence by turning them back into fossilized bones of warriors past. She reached into every chest mentally, and by using a crunching motion of her hands every embryotic sac was ripped out. This was a team effort when Monica got back in the swing of things with a damaged leg. Filled with paralyzing substance, it filled the Vault's floor which had Carlos running towards the platform for higher ground. However, she serviced that when she lifted him in mid-air and landed him gently on the platform itself. Telepathically, she wanted Carlos to signal his recue chopper to get him out of Norway as soon as possible.

"I'm counting on you to make this right, Phylicia. You've seen what the elixir is capable of...he said looking at the river of embryotic fluid and looking back at her...which is not all that foreign on you really. But I'm not going anywhere."

"_I would not expect you to. You are way too thick headed to listen. I sense more undead are closing in on the Vault." _She smiled.

"Leave that to us. If she's staying, so am I."

Impressed and mesmerized at the same time, Alex couldn't help but feel joy for how far Phylicia had come since they first met. They spoke in the Norwegian language as a final farewell before the showdown was about to begin. Carlos retained some oxygen and got his axe to join Monica for a final battle was about to begin.

"Why the hell you still here?!"

"Just zip it and stay close to me. I'm not leaving you behind." Carlos reminded her.

"_Du har kommet langt. Jeg kan ikke fortelle deg hvor mye lykke dette bringer meg."_

(You have come a long way. I cannot tell you how much happiness this brings me.)

"_Hvorfor meg; Jeg visste ingenting om du når du fant meg."_

(Why me; I knew nothing about you before you found me.)

"_Sult for udødelighet har blitt en sidig for langt for lenge. Noen folk som er egoistiske ikke fortjener kraft, og de som slåss nebb og klør for sine liv hver dag fortjener en sjanse. Phylicia, en dag du kan ha for å bruke gaven til å sette en stopper for fremtidige utbrudd. Hvordan du gjør det er ditt valg. Hvis du overlever, er du fri. Skal vi begynne?"_

(Hunger for immortality has become one sided for far too long. Some people who are selfish do not deserve power, and ones that fight tooth and nail for their lives every day deserve a chance. Phylicia, one day you may have to use your gift to put an end to future outbreaks. How you do it is your choice. If you survive, you are free." Alex said before the Vault began to shake and descend. "Shall we begin?")

Picking up the bloodied staff Phylicia used, he lunged it near her feet. He then bellowed out a massive roar as she looked at him with sincerity he was ready to go through with his last wish to see her away from Norway. She picked it up and held it horizontally as the staff extended longer and unleashed two sharp blades on both ends. Suddenly, he walked to her without any hesitation and placed his claws on the staff as well, surprisingly turning him back to human form. He gave her a nod for good luck and she pulled the staff away, making twirling motions as Alex tried to dodge her frontal attacks.

He entreated her moves as he put his foot down on the hilt of the staff. She flipped sideways and hurled towards the right side of Alex's deformed face and kicked him off the platform, onto the fluids of his fallen Remnants. Literally swimming in paralyzing fluid, it didn't faze him in the slightest. She rose a few feet off the ground and hovered over Alex, followed by sending the staff violently towards his neck. She then retracted a few inches away and anticipated another attack.

Undead broke through the Vault's cracks as they were lining up for some payback from the outside. Salt water didn't affect them at all Monica told Carlos, gripping both her leg and axe together. Rage rose within her as her axe were knocking heads off in more ways than one. Dozens were squeezing through; in some ways it was what Monica was waiting for.

Alex swiftly turned around and conducted his sharp claws like attached swords on his fingers. It deviated from chess playing at the moment and focused on dueling each other. Phylicia gained the upper hand, and for one split second she struck his enlarged, scaly hand, dragged his body as it scratched across the paralyzing surface. Without mercy, it impacted the Vault's foundation, making it tremble even more as the structure descended further into the water. As they continued fighting, Carlos made his way deeper into the elixir infested horde while Gavin's helicopter was ready and waiting to pick them up. He nearly got his head split in two when an axe landed behind the heels of his feet.

When he turned around, one undead corpse backhanded Monica towards the heat of the confrontation. He ran to her aid when two other undead got the jump on him. Phylicia saw them gathering in number and couldn't multitask two fights at the same time, but judging from Monica's eyes, she didn't want her to interfere. In fact, her eyes got her one good leg supporting her weight, then had them sighted for Alex. She grit her teeth, limping towards Carlos with seething desire to be done with all this.

"Monroe, Terrell, dad..." She said holding her bruised stomach. "Today, we win."

Suddenly, her leg didn't hurt anymore. She hurled herself about to swing the axe when Alex had his back turned. Carlos tried to break free as he was screaming at her to not do what he thought she intended. Such pleas were left on deaf ears when her stomach was punctured through by an undead and blood falling out of her mouth like a river. Carlos managed to break away just Monica's body was tossed to the rest of the horde. Phylicia prevented him from fighting back, demanding for him to leave Norway right then and there. He tossed his weapon at one of their heads before getting on the ladder.

The odds tipped back for Alex when he grabbed hold of his progeny and slashed away at her newly formed armor, performing an impending kick which sent vibrations throughout her chest as she fell into the paralyzing fluid. She made a backflip and readied her staff for another round. Using his other hand with extended claws, she ducked and punched his jaw to the point where it almost made him slack jawed. Both were left hanging by a thread, Alex most of all. For only a few minutes Phylicia was already losing touch with her father and the jewel that once held him. In her mind, he pushed her to keep going because Alex can take it. In some strange way, he wanted to be defeated.

From what Carlos gathered when they spoke in the foreign tongue, Alex had already passed on his work to her already, making sure neither Umbrella's demons or any other corporation get their hands on it. Staring into the soulless eyes that made her kill Damien in a split second, she was brought back to revisit the moments where her humanity died little by little. The first was when she standing over her father's body at the age of sixteen, screaming in terror. The next was twelve months living in the temple's darkness with no friendly voices, let alone water to keep her sane. Next were the times when Alex slipped into his "Wesker" persona, and used his elixir to command both queens to defile Norwegian graveyards.

She could still smell the rotten flesh of what both queens had to go through to make them adapt to the elixir. The last vision was the one where she sent three deep cuts into Damien's stomach, all while throughout she was showing Alex no mercy as the visions kept flowing back and fueling her rage against him. Suddenly, he grabbed the staff and swiped it away, making him spin around and make attempt to pierce her heart. Just a few inches away, she grabbed one end of the staff and looked to his human form with the color of light gray swirling around the iris of her eyes.

"You've made claims you are nothing like your brother. Yet you've let their spirits control you at every turn."

"Had I known you in the past life, I would have left my father's prison sooner." Alex said holding on as long as he could.

"Damien didn't deserve what I did to him. He will resent me for years to come if he survives."

"Children should not be fighting in Umbrella's shadow. Bless the fates…that one person will set things right one day…" He concluded before the staff pierced his chest.

After delivering his final words to his one and only progeny and friend, he fell back into the fluid with staff pressed upward. He wasn't moving a muscle for a few seconds, but she wanted to be sure he wasn't going to rise. She stabbed him again and again, releasing both anger and tears as she was performing the act. Carlos look below and took a chance jumping back down to the platform as fast as he could to comfort Phylicia. She collapsed in his arms. Caressing her head, he told her it was alright, that it was over.

The ladder from Gavin was still present as he screamed in Carlos's ear to get his ass on board already. Not a moment too soon the Vault itself was getting sent lower and lower into the sea. The jewel's essence left her eyes as a final goodbye said by her father, assuring his love for her will never fade long after his death. She took the staff and both made their way to the ladder. Grabbing on, both slowly ascended until a loud and echoing roar made its way towards them.

Alex's monstrous form roared out Phylicia's name. With Carlos holding on to her, she steadied her aiming of the staff. She threw it straight into his torso with pristine impact which gave enough force to send him back into the crumbling darkness as the Vault holding the elixir was heading into. As they got on board, Gavin joked that Oliveira did not bring the temple to ruin the day he was sent there. He also introduced himself to Phylicia, but she didn't spare a word to satisfy his existence.

"_Did Jules and Conklin get the others out safe?" _Carlos asked putting on his radio helmet.

"_They sure did. They're en route to a medical center in another part of the region. Damn Carlos, what caused the entire temple to go scuba diving?"_

"_A curse the Architects placed a long time ago. You'll be happy to know the elixir of Valhalla is buried underwater along with Alex Wesker."_

"_Wesker; so you confirmed another survivor of Ozwell's W project?"_

"_Yeah, we didn't have a lot of time to learn about him in the trophy room. Perhaps that new military division, the BSAA can locate Spencer and question him on this Progenitor Virus."_

"_I'll contact Interpol and send their best soldiers on it."_

"_I can give you the location of Spencer's estate. It is the least I can do." _Phylicia brought up.

"_I know one you can recommend. How about Damien Walsh; what's the status on him?"_

"_It's not good, man. Jules said he had scars that were a few inches away from his heart. It'll be a godsend if that kid makes it. Just sit back you two. This luau's over."_

With the temple gone and all of its dark secrets, Phylicia still felt like she lost a great deal in the end. Her campaign against Alex was to convince him the world didn't need another outbreak though Alex claimed it was to become the number one source to prevent viral outbreaks in the future. It was one of the elixir's top abilities: premonitions. Its fortunetelling aspects were what led his mind to be split in two. The more goals he had for his research the more his past came back to haunt him in every sense of the word. In a way he knew what he was going to send himself into when setting out for Norway.

His "unworthiness" spoke in two voices of both his surrogate father and brother, driving him angry and relentless, revealing the Wesker side of him. However, if there was one thing he did right during his solitude in the temple, it was one who was flying back to civilization to start a new life. The outside to her felt somber, yet threatening with the lightning storm commencing after the constant rainstorm. She thought back to what Alex wrote on the parchment she found at the Sanctum. It didn't undo the pain she and the other survivors had endured, but it felt like a proper goodbye said by the man who found her in the dank depths of the abandoned temple.

"_Phylicia, where does one begin to tell you his true intentions behind his desires? I guess there is no easy answer if your desires fall in the same line as to what your heritage forces you to uphold. There was a time before Norway that I believed in my father's words: "Only one can achieve greatness, but both of you are destined to do extraordinary things." I was always the recessive type compared to my brother, Albert. He had the drive to put Umbrella on the map in ways my father and James Marcus had never dreamed of. _

_Over time he resented me, not because I was smart, but not being able to take the challenge head on. It made me wonder what he saw in me in the first place. When I decided to go on my own, it was a decision I took on faith. The Progenitor Virus was at a standstill in obtaining its full potential. I offered a solution to his predicament. His arrogance refused any outside help. I figured if I took my time, remained patient enough, I would find an effective solution to achieve immortality. _

_It even sounds ridiculous as I'm writing. Traversing in the temple for the first time, I won't lie to you. I was scared out of my mind. You would think I'd be used to it with the horrors Umbrella unleashed in Raccoon City. I thought I have seen everything that no therapy in the world can fix. By the time you read this letter, you would have earned your freedom. Your humanity was taken the day the Ashfords threw you into the darkness, and I sealed your fate by making you my Queen. _

_I have ruined you; I am deeply sorry for this act. Look, I may not be the sanest person or even a fair one, but if there is one thing I have done right as opposed to what my heritage says, it was you. You were my first friend and partner throughout this temple ordeal. We helped each other survive. I look at you, and I see an actual future. I speak to you, and I feel progress from a tortured soul. Your father is a great man; a better man than my own father. _

_If only I can take back what the Ashfords have done to him as well. There will come a time when the very foundation the temple stands on comes crashing down. I know in that period of time you will know what to do. It was part of my plan all along: to have us sacrifice ourselves to lift the Architects' curse. My heritage wanted me to drink from the blood of fallen gods and worthy soldiers. I ignored it because I feared for what it might do to me. I failed you as well as I failed myself for the heinous things I have done, and things I will do before the storm arrives. At least with you, this world will be free of viral tyranny someday. Goodbye Phylicia Kurinthian, and thank you for making me feel I wasn't alone in this world."_

12


	13. Final Part: Close your eyes

Temple of Kurinthian

Final Part: Close your eyes

Alex Wesker became a changed man when he sank with the rest of temple. Norway was liberated from any future outbreaks that may have broken out from the elixir. The mission lasted for two weeks; two weeks of discovery, confronting old enemies from Umbrella's ashes, and making bonds with strangers even if it wasn't a choice made by all. The Vallhallan Elixir was thought to be released into the atmosphere in order for mankind to have that final push to become what was rightfully theirs, where a selfish few would prefer such a privilege for themselves. The world was under a state of incomprehension; the horrors from Raccoon City died with the missile it impacted, while the new millennium faced new threats from other Umbrella facilities in Antarctica, Russia, and Spain. Not to mention the extra Intel Carlos Oliveira had gotten from the Sanctum on Ozwell Spencer's whereabouts. Many thought him dead when his mansion blew up, back to where the nightmares began in earnest.

The Intel had the location and the possibility of finding Albert Wesker in order to bring him in for war crimes. It took the BSAA four years to get a break in the operation. They sent two of their best operatives into the Spencer Estate. Since Norway, the mission was kept under a tight lid thanks to President Graham back on April 3, 2005. He congratulated the survivors, Cara Moreno, Abigail Caprielli, Kelley Kaplan, and Carlos Oliveira for a tremendous service they had done for the entire world.

He thanked them as well as his daughter, Ashley who was also a victim of a viral cult. Damien Walsh was nowhere to be found during the White House ceremony. He had to phone in his praise from the hospital where he was recovering from his chest scars. Everyone who survived with troubled histories from the law, namely Damien and Monica were cleared of any wrongdoing. She would've walked away a free woman. It turned out their corporate officer, Samuel Travers was telling the truth all along. When the ceremony was over, the President took the time to clear up some loose ends that may have been lost during their journey. It was true Samuel was a pilot for STARS; he was one of the few pilots to get thirteen survivors out of Raccoon and to a location that was off the grid.

Like many military personnel and survivors of the incident, they took desk jobs and saw Therapists to get their lives back in order. For the next few years, Sam took some time off from his position from STARS and took a vacation to Venezuela. When he had gotten word from one of his military buddies that STARS was being shut down, Sam didn't really plan for the future. But one day he was able to get into contact with the new Commander in Chief, which was President Henry Graham, and came up with a suggestion to prepare the younger generation for a horrid future that may or not come to pass. Henry disregarded the idea as a form of patricide; the thought in turning children into soldiers. It was something he was not prepared to authorize.

Then when his daughter got kidnapped and became a test subject for the Las Plagas parasite, it gave Sam an open window to operate outside U.S. jurisdiction. He had gotten ahold of some equipment and an expensive gunship he had to fight for his life for to reach an abandoned offshore base in Venezuela. Graham knew what Sam was trying to do. After Travers found candidates for the Norway mission, word had gotten back to the President of his intentions. His mind wasn't in the right place, but his heart was telling him otherwise.

Like the Presidents before him, he had ties to the service; the Marines. At the time, he felt if he would have trained his daughter in how to defend herself, or at least had the persistence to hide and run whenever possible, her and his best agent, Leon Kennedy would've made it out of Spain without too much difficulty. After the ceremony, Cara brought up how Sam died in the temple, most likely from the Red Queen she told him. She didn't go into details about Monica's passing except she was a crucial member of the group who found some peace. As for Carlos, he gave him his report on the mission and took his last paycheck as a mercenary from Conklin. After the things he had experienced finding the elixir, he needed a rest.

He left the states around late May in the same year to go to Brazil and stayed there for a while. Kelley was reunited with her family when they came to Washington, but Abigail disappeared with no trace whatsoever. The last thing she gave the President was a book telling of the Architects who built the temple; a memento which sealed the deal to keep something as horrid as the undead who would never die by bullets or other conventional means. The next nine years became a brutal time for the planet; viruses such as Las Plagas in Spain and Uroboros in Africa took major precedence over their people. However, it was the Chrysalid Virus that sent the world into brink of extinction.

The drastic event went beyond the devastation from Raccoon City; millions were infected. It took the BSAA and vital medical facilities a year and a half to bring normalcy back to the population. In the year 2014, the only solace Sherry Birkin was able to find was two hours and forty-eight minutes worth of a Temple survivor's story in how a virus was prevented. Before meeting Damien, she would always hear and read reports about C-virus casualty counts in the high thousands after Lanshiang, China took the worst of it. They were still in Damien's hotel room; no alarms from the CDC were heard pounding on the door which was a good sign both thought.

"I got to say, you're one hell of a storyteller. The ability to remember every detail on what happened in Norway…I know it mustn't been easy with those memories flooding back." Sherry said saving the audio feed on her phone.

"Not every detail." Damien brought up. "After Phylicia attacked me I passed out from the blood loss, or at least that's what the doctors said after they stitched me up."

"I'm sorry about Monica, Monroe, and Terrell. It sounds like you connected with them on this experience."

"Thanks. Monica wasn't a loss to me though." He said in a cold tone.

"Then I'm sorry you don't think it does. I got what I need." She replied gathering her things. "My superiors won't say no to a full operation to track down the Family now. We should've been doing that after Simmons' death. If they are the ones behind every source of viral activity in the world, taking them out will put an end to it for sure. Call it wishful thinking; as you can see I'm tired of dealing with B.O.W.s."

"Sherry, when I attacked Mark in the alley there was a moment. I didn't really care for it until it was shown to me. This is going to sound crazy, but I went back to Raccoon City. I literally saw everything from a bird's eye perspective, kind of like a video game so to speak."

"I'd be damned if they ever made a video game out of something so dark." Sherry said.

"You'd be surprised." He said to himself. "I saw the undead with cold, white eyes; saw the Police Chief getting slaughtered. The point is what you said was true. What happened to me in Norway, when you lost your parents to their research, it sticks with you. I've been banging my head against my apartment walls to try and get it out. Best thing is to move on."

"I'm glad you're not hiding from your past anymore. So you don't know what happened to Alex?" She asked him.

"Everything else became a blur after I got attacked. One of the survivors, Cara, she said he died along with the Vault holding the elixir. That's all I got for you."

"Um...not all. Back at the coffee place, you said you needed to make a phone call."

"Yeah I did. Why?"

"The payphone you were using was disconnected. I got a glimpse of the phone cord before Mark…you know."

Before he was able to explain himself, Sherry got a phone call from another agent working with Adrien named Brewster. He's been helping him track down the Family's home base. What they knew for sure was the original members were handling some reconstruction alongside West Africa. However, Adrien came upon another shocking discovery. Brewster asked if Damien was still up and about; he listened in on Adrien's searching around a safe house.

It was filled with files and pictures based on each Family member, all the way to the founders of the fraternity: Kith and Kin Simmons. Judging by the house's contents, it once belonged to a hired killer; a very meticulous one. Apart from old cigarette butts in an ashtray, the killer was spying on the Family's surveillance. Fourteen TV's were all showing the inside of an old building with a sophisticated design to it. On one of cameras, he got spooked for a second when he saw a glimpse of a deformed body leaping up into the darkness.

"Are you okay? Talk to me." Sherry asked him, but he was introduced to a horrific event of each member dead in a pool of their own blood. All eleven members were torn to pieces and some had their necks snapped. Brewster couldn't conclude the source behind the members who were torn limb from limb, but he had one theory to draw from the neck snapping. Sherry recognized the name "Mr. Death"; he was part of an extraction team in Raccoon City to obtain the G-Virus from her father, William Birkin. The official report said his team got wiped out. Mr. Death hasn't been seen or heard in almost fifteen years. Brewster wanted to do some more digging on the mercenary.

"_Mr. Walsh, how are you holding up son?" _Adrien asked him on the other line.

"I'm still breathing, chief." Damien coughed. "Agent Birkin recorded my entire story. Sorry to say I don't know where Alex Wesker is, or even if he's still alive for that matter."

"If the Family's gone, then what's the third party attending the banquet?" Sherry asked.

"_We'll put defensive measures in place so if there is a threat at the event, we will know about it. I think everyone's attending: the BSAA, FOS, and..." _Brewster said before getting cut off in a panic.

"_Guys, I got a problem here!"_

"_Say again boss? You're breaking up!" _Brewster shouted with static on his end.

"Sir, where are you?"

Loud static came at the other end of her phone. Brewster was talking in the background trying to boost the signal. All he heard from Adrien was him saying multiple B.O.W.s and gunfire blasting to coexist with the continuous static. The other agents who were with him were shouting in their radios to send backup; another biohazard was overwhelming them. Three hard to listen minutes of the same sounds over and over again; Sherry kept telling Brewster to work faster.

She left the hotel room to see if she was able to get a stronger signal from her side, but the sounds of flesh getting torn apart sent her teeth on edge, not to mention chills running from the back of her neck all the way to her heels. It wasn't C-Virus infected, or T-Virus in that matter. From what she was able to pick up, the attacks were sounding organized; as if the B.O.W.s were concentrating on their killing instead of mindlessly doing so. When Brewster got the signal back up and running again, both were trying to establish contact with Adrien. Suddenly, footsteps treaded sensually towards his radio as it was picked up by a female voice with threatening tones. Adrien was heard breathing in the background; for how long no one knew. Sherry took a big gulp and listened in.

"_Sherry Birkin, I know it's you who's listening in."_

"Who is this?" Sherry asked with nerves shaking in her voice.

"_You don't know me, but I'm going to get very acquainted with Mr. Anti-body of the C-Virus."_

"You leave Jake out of this!"

"_You're cute. Jakey boy always goes for the cute ones, until he realized you were an infection when he was pulling helicopter shrapnel out of your back. He thinks about you every day; it's giving me migraines. But I digress. Maestro's new pets have done serious work to your Chief Advisor and his men."_

"Maestro; Alex Wesker is alive?"

"_Damn, I wanted it to be a surprise for Saturday night. Guess we'll have to make sure you don't show up. If you do, your advisor here meets his demise."_

"I swear to god lady, if you touch him or Jake..." Sherry promised before getting interrupted with a gunshot on the other end.

"_Jake's a big boy honey. That's strike one super girl; I got work to do. Have fun cleaning up Adrien's remains." _

Sherry immediately ordered Brewster to trace the radio signal of the female voice. As he was doing that she was able to get a few words out of Adrien and asked him if he was okay. Brewster already called for backup and an ambulance over to his location. Sherry then put her phone close to her ear; she heard something beeping. In his own way, Adrien said he couldn't move because of all the pain he was enduring.

He put his radio close to his mouth and uttered two words that would sound irrelevant to some, but vital for Sherry to hear. "Find Jake…" The beeping got louder and faster before an explosion blasted any further communication. It happened out of nowhere. Radio silence ensued; not even Brewster was able to comprehend what was happening. She held the radio close to her chest, not breathing a spec of air with her eyes widened. Normally bad things had happened in the latter duration of her life, but this was different, and not being chased in two countries by a ten foot, mutated behemoth either.

_"Agent Birkin, are you still there? I'm sending a rescue team to investigate." _Brewster asked feeling worried.

"Keep our agents from leaving the building. Track where the safe house was stationed and send Paramedics down there. I'm heading out now."

_"You got it. I'll also send a cab for Damien to take him to the airport."_

"No need. Director Redfield from TerraSave will see to him. Contact me when you have the safe house's location." Sherry concluded before hanging up and walking back in the room.

"Is everything alright?" He asked her.

"I have to go." She said getting her coat. "I'll send someone here to take you to the airport tomorrow. You should be back in Denver by tomorrow afternoon."

"So, are we good? You have everything you need about my time in Norway?"

"It's funny. No matter how many outbreaks you repel, there will always be a stronger one to take its place." She sighed. "This world just keeps taking and taking. Thank you for your time, Damien. I mean that. I wish you well."

Before she reached the hotel door, Damien made it clear that she was not an infection. He has seen plenty of infection to last a lifetime. It felt nice to him to interact with a human being for once. At first, she was shocked as to how he was able to hear her phone conversation. He wished her good luck and she left in a hurry to get to the safe house.

While she stepped out the first time, Damien was feeling stinging and sharp pain once again. He looked at his left arm and was introduced to its mutation. His human skin was no longer present; just blue veins and pulsing elixir going up into other parts of his body, altering his bloodstream. He panicked as he almost fell out of bed and ran to the bathroom to throw up. It went from a stomach eruption to severe acid reflux; he couldn't puke.

But when he looked at the mirror, his chest scars took a turn for the worse. Blue veins surrounded them, and his eyes suddenly were no longer his color. Half of him was still human while the other half was changing into the one thing he had worked desperately to avoid for a decade. He ran back into the room and took two more prescription pills he got from when he got his left arm skin grafted. It relieved some of the pain…for the moment.

There was no way the pay phone he used to call his friend was disconnected the whole time. How would he be talking to someone if that happen he thought? He heard the news loud and clear, and it tormented his mind when she told him the cure she and a friend were making wasn't going to turn him back to normal. Cara was his contact, his inside source for making a serum to reverse the effects of the scars. But she refused to let him die.

What was strange was that instead of telling him she was going to find another way, she simply hung up on him. He didn't have time to ponder so he took the hotel phone and dialed her number in the hopes of changing her mind. After three rings and him begging Cara to pick up, she finally did. A huge sigh of relief passed and he asked her if the serum was ready. She explained that she tried calling his cell around ten times in the past thirty-two hours.

To his pre-meditated response, he was brought to the same conclusion; no cure. However, she told him she found another source. She didn't want to bring it up because the cracking in her voice forced her to keep the conversation brief. All she told him was she and her friend was going to be in D.C. by ten in the evening. It was already five o'clock. To his luck, the pills were going to take the edge off for a couple hours, give him enough time to say goodbye.

"Goodbye..." he said to himself in despair. No word more frightening when about to meet his maker. He told her to head to the Marvin Hotel as soon as they touched down, and that he was going to wait in his room. He couldn't go outside or the lobby for that matter. Not to mention the CDC were still on the move looking for his blood type. Perhaps they got occupied with either Mark or the safe house explosion Sherry was talking about. As he went back into the bathroom, he took a chance and took a shower.

Surprisingly his body didn't shrivel up like the undead who couldn't handle the rain water back in Norway. When he was done, any residue that was formed beforehand flushed into the drain; no surprises for house-keeping to worry about. Afterwards, he went over to his bedside and picked up the phone as he was trying to remember certain phone numbers. The first he called was his landlord, George.

"_Ok, spit it out." _George said on the other line.

"It's me, George." He spoke in a form of relief.

"_Walsh? Holy shit! I mean, I know it's only been two days but it feels like a lifetime since I last saw your smug face around here. For a lifetime I sure didn't lay off the KFC."_

"I just called to let you know..." Damien spoke before pausing for a second.

"_Let me know what? Relax man. You got five months' rent paid right off the bat. We're straight." _

"I'm not coming back to Denver. Something you won't believe me just happened. I need to…get closure on some things."

"_Take as long as you need, kid. You don't need my permission. Is the Government sending you on another mission to Zimbabwe or something?" _He chuckled. _"O-k, still got to work on my punch lines."_

"I just want to say...thank you for taking me in. I know it wasn't easy since you don't like young people all that much. It means a lot."

"_Kid, is everything alright? You don't sound good." _He asked with concern.

"I got to go, George." Damien concluded before hanging up immediately after.

That was one person in his life he said goodbye to. The first is always the hardest, and it didn't get any better when a thought crossed his mind about calling his father. Their last encounter wasn't really a pleasant one; throwing him out of the hospital only sounded good at the time. Suddenly, he had another number in mind for his mother, Claudette. Last time he heard from her was she was vacationing in Cabot with her newly appointed husband. That was around the time he was eight years old. After his father left him at the hospital he slipped a piece of paper into Damien's coat pocket. He went over to it hanging on one of the chairs next to the desk and pulled the paper out. It said "biological mother's phone #" on it; what love he thought to himself. Once he dialed it, he was greeted by a meek, male voice that was polite on the other line.

"_This is the Harrison residence. May I ask whose calling?"_

"Uh, hi there; is your mother home?"

"_My mommy doesn't want me talking to strangers."_

"That's smart. My name is Damien Walsh. I'm your brother." He said holding the phone steady.

He heard a female voice in the background. He recognized that it was her mother out of nowhere. She asked his son to give her the phone so she could see who it was. As the kid left the room, he told her he had a big brother.

"_Listen to me, I don't know you are, but if you ever put ideas in my son's head again..." _She ranted before getting cut off.

"I guess this is a bad to tell you I'm your son." He said.

"_Hate to tell you this, but the only kid I ever had was the one you just talked to. If you must know, I had an ex-husband a long time ago, but we went our separate ways and we don't speak. Now if that's all, I am busy right now."_

"Agatha Walsh was my grandmother." He replied in a scolding manner. "I'm Damien Walsh; the lucked out kid who didn't have a family besides her. Look, I didn't call to reconcile. Maybe I did, but apparently you don't remember a five year old sobbing twit as you both left me and never came back."

For thirteen seconds, she didn't utter a single response. However, he knew he got through to her. Much to his surprise, she had no reaction. Then she finally spoke by saying softly it had been way too long. It took her a bit, but she finally knew who he was and the pain she and her husband had put him through. Just when he was about to tell her he didn't have much time left, she spoke up first by offering him to visit her in Houston, Texas. She met her new husband and settled in a new life down in the south. Suddenly, Damien had an urge to be cold. He was contemplating on whether to say "yes" or "no" and hung up the phone in the hopes she bought his response.

"_Just let me know where you are and I'll send you plane tickets to Houston. Your real father won't admit it, but you looked a lot like him when you were five. Maybe you grew out of that phase and became your own man."_

"Mom, just tell me one thing. Why did you and dad split up?"

"_Let me guess. He visited you in a hospital in D.C. and didn't have the balls to tell you the truth? He left me a voicemail a few hours ago. Well, where do I start? We married too young, had insecurities we couldn't work on together. Not to mention Grandma Agatha butting in a great deal with all this talk about "family" and "togetherness". It annoyed the hell out of me really. Your father couldn't open up; he always took her side even when we were dating. Then when I had you…all I saw was his eyes staring back at me. I'm sorry Damien, but the fact you looked more like him than me made me sick."_ She went on as Damien closed his eyes and looked away for a second. _"I know you didn't ask to be brought in this world. With everything that has happened to the world after China, who would raise a child in it? I was selfish; I was immature. I can't take it back."_

"How ironic; dad said the same thing about owning up to what you and he did without…actually owning up to anything. What's your son's name?"

"_Xavier; he's turning six soon. Ironic huh; I waited this time to get my life in order and can start fresh with him and his father. He's a really sweet boy. So what's it going to be Damien? You're going to come down to Texas and meet your little brother?"_

"Sure." He replied in a straight, cold tone. "He seems like a good kid. Here's hoping he grows up to be a good man."

She acknowledged her excitement and asked him to hold the line while she went to the kitchen to get a pad and pen to write her address. Damien's act as a final goodbye drove him to slamming the phone on the receiver, thus cutting both her and his father out of his life forever. His dole, cowl eyes stared at the floor when he was processing the conversation. Thinking back to his childhood with only five years in knowing his parents was a tough one. They've only been married two years before he was born.

Neither seemed to want to make an effort in inviting him back into their lives; joke was on them he figured. With all the voices circulating in his head over the past two days, or nine years depending if they were words of comfort or torment, his grandmother appeared one last time in his fatal condition. It was not Venezia in disguise, but a genuine relief of what death may bring for him.

"You did the right thing, Damien." She said with him looking to the left side of his bed.

"Grandma, you came back."

"I was alive in you the whole time. Venezia or…White Queen whatever was just holding you back from guilt that wasn't even yours. The proof was set free when you told your story."

"I told Sherry I understood what she was going through. Truth is you can't really put that kind of trauma past you, not completely. I just wanted to forget it ever happened."

"Well that's how the world works. It brings you into this world, and it deteriorates you as you get older. Question is if you're going to grow a pair and let the ugly side of life harden you? That's what your parents couldn't grasp. I still don't see what your father saw in her, but no human being is perfect."

"You always told me the truth. I mean, I just don't get it. Both my parents say they want me back in their lives, yet they don't actually mean it. Even mom thinks I'm a mistake. I guess it doesn't matter anyway." He said as he observed his arms and legs. "I'm dying."

"Death is just another journey." She said placing her left palm on his shoulder. "One that even your parents will have to endure someday. At least you and I will face it together."

Silence occurred around a minute or so. Agatha didn't mind; it was enough to take in for both to accept their fates. That was when Damien came clean on another issue.

"I'm responsible." Damien said with regret.

"About what...?" She asked.

"About what happened to your heart. The day you threw me out, Beth called me. She said you made a mistake and wanted me to be by your side. She insisted me to and I said no. I wanted to give you some space."

"I shouldn't have done that to you. I was just so angry and exhausted I couldn't think straight."

"I wish I hadn't done it. Period. If I had stayed, never left the country then I wouldn't be in pain. It changed me; made me a closed off person, a bitter person. I'm scared, grandma." He said before hearing two knocks on his hotel door.

"You won't be soon. I'll see you on the other side as they say." She smiled and faded away.

He checked his alarm clock and it said 9:56 at night. How the hell his conversation with his grandmother lasted for five hours? Luckily, his body hadn't deteriorated much since he took a shower to get the odor off. Without looking through the door's peephole, he opened it to a grown up Cara. Nine years can change a person's appearance, attitude, even perspective.

After Norway, she went back to school to focus further on her singing goals, writing lyrics about what the things she did. They were a variety of sad and forthcoming songs, but after two years of writing she couldn't get a record deal anywhere. Not because she didn't have talent her agent told her way back when, but how she didn't have the charisma to see her career take off. It was like something always held her back from her full potential.

Her family saw it; her agent heard it in her singing. Sometime after, she was working at a dead end job in her mother's restaurant. As for her boyfriend up in Toronto, he gave up waiting for her and dated somebody else. She couldn't blame him; taking off without a goodbye is pretty much an alarm for any relationship to worry for a while. Around 2008, there was a new company making waves in curing the infections the Umbrella Corporation left behind.

It was too long a stretch for her to pursue a career in medicine; she had never endured a single operation in her life. She interned after astounding her superiors in what she was able to foretell. Surprisingly, she still had a slight connection to the Golden Stag, Eikpyrnir, and was able to utilize resources to make vaccines to put an end to all infections. There were only two in the world who had elixir blood in their DNA: Damien and Mark. TerraSave has been working around the clock to try and manufacture an elixir equivalent from special herbs and remedies from Norway, but to no avail did they work.

Once an important employee turned Medical Chief, Claire Redfield, had been very patient with Cara's knowledge and was relieved to know her own brother Chris was leading the BSAA to combat any B.O.W.s being thrown at them. It bought her and TerraSave time to work on the vaccine. Like Claire, Cara didn't give up. With years of exhausted theories and dead ends, they were able to synthesize a reversing chemical agent to retract the elixir from a person's body. In Cara's case, a "friend" of hers offered a missing ingredient to make the agent functional. Damien turned his back to her and couldn't bear to show the horror of what his body had suffered through.

"Long time no see, my friend. I'm sorry it took so long." Cara told him.

"No need." He assured her walking towards his bed. "You look good. Seems the workload hasn't been killing you; what with everything with the C-Virus and all."

"Director Claire Redfield isn't even in the office anymore. She's usually at the forefront taking on B.O.W.s by herself. Juggling that responsibility and dealing with her brother's psyche after China…I don't know how she does it."

"You did; going from a quiet, bookworm type to speaking with the supernatural. It was one hell of a leap if you ask me."

"We all made it out of Norway by the skin of our teeth. A few of us anyway." She said while looking at the steel case. "Damien, are you sure you want this?"

"It has to happen." He replied turning around to face her. "Nine years is enough."

"Jesus Christ." She replied from the Damien's loss of human skin. "Oh Damien I…I should've worked faster on that vaccine. I'm so sorry."

"You're here; that's all that matters." He replied looking at a composed friend. "You don't seem frightened by me."

"What-what'd you expect? Thanks to Norway, I've seen enough horror to deal. Maybe there's another option. I know a medical facility in D.C. who has good relations with TerraSave and..." She said as her "friend" walked inside the hotel room.

A familiar face came into view. Phylicia Kurinthian appeared before two survivors of her father's temple. She didn't really change very much. Her hair was still black with faded white strands, and her face had definitely seen better days in Norway. Due to her confrontation with Alex in the Vault, her face had been scarred up. Whether or not she still retained what she had gained from Odin's jewel was up in the air.

She stood before Damien without fear; though for him it was a different story. He didn't know what to say or how to react to her presence. Was she still a hallucination; an infectious reminder of the mistakes he had caused in the temple? Or was she actually there in physical form? The understanding of what was real and what was an illusion was completely foreign to him at this point, among other things. She seemed friendly enough. After Norway, Phylicia was kept under close observation in a laboratory in Sweden.

In 2007, she was captured while rehabilitating at a lodge for addicts. It wasn't much of a cover up; she was still trying to learn about how much the world had changed since her teens. Judging by her understanding of a city getting destroyed in 1998, to hearing B.O.W.s attacking a utopia with Il Veltro pulling the strings, the world hasn't really changed. Dictators and mad scientists still existed which was shown front and center to her when imprisoned in Sweden. They were running an illegal blood bank which extracted special blood types from damaged women. Afterwards, their bodies would get cut up and sent to questionable neighborhoods and are never seen again. Long story short, TerraSave formed an alliance with the BSAA; operatives were sent to Sweden to shut down the facility. Since then, Phylicia was put under TerraSave's protection. Like Cara, they were both working together to synthesize vaccines for future outbreaks.

"What are you doing here?" He asked in stern voice.

"I'll give you two some time to talk things over." Cara said.

"No. Stay. I need an answer to something, something that has been bothering me for a long time.

"Damien, I know what this looks like..." Phylicia said moving towards him.

"Don't take…another step. How do I know you're real?" He asked coughing.

"Ten minutes. That's all I ask. You must have a strong will to hold back the mutation this long. My god..." She said looking at him. "After the temple crashing down, I had these nightmares. They took me back to the time I scarred you. Then I was feeling your suffering when I appeared to you everywhere you went. Alex suffered the same thing when his father and brother appeared as apparitions in the Vault. His mind was tortured for months, all telling him he was unworthy and the only Wesker afraid to show his face. Since then he had been fighting it, keeping his mind on talking to my father and experimenting on the dead. He made us defile those graves, and it's something we will never take back. Look, we tried. Judging how far the elixir has progressed in your body, I'd say you have another two hours left before the pain becomes unbearable. Not even those pills will keep it at bay." She said pointing at the pill bottles on the nightstand.

"Does Mark know all this? He's been threatening me. Perhaps your "appearances" have compelled him to put me out of my misery. He said your blood is inside him too."

"He works for National Security, or he did. He was also connected to a secret fraternity. Come this Saturday, he's going to expose the Family for what their plans are. I know what he looks like; just leave it to me."

Damien sat on the bed, placing both hands on his face trying to take in the fact Phylicia might be telling the truth this time. Not one peep was heard in the hotel room. Cara put her steel case on the desk, opening up to two syringes filled with blue and white liquid.

"If you want me to leave while you...handle your business I understand."

"You weren't the only one I saw. My grandmother has been appearing to me too."

"I'm sure her presence was very comforting." Phylicia told him.

"What did she say?" Cara asked.

"She was a better parent than the ones who brought me into this world. Before you two came, she spoke to me one last time. She's waiting for me to join her. Before I do, how does it feel outside?"

Cool air was one of the reliefs he was able to get from the burning sensation from his scars. With every small gust hitting the surface of his chest he told them, it was like he felt at peace. Cara made a suggestion about an emergency exit leading to the roof of the hotel. Damien gave a little smile before all three got up and left the room. Phylicia was wearing a dark grey trench coat at the time; she gave it to Damien to cover himself up. Luckily nobody was up and about walking the hallways. When they got up to the door and went up the stairs, it took a little longer than usual. His legs were losing their feeling so Cara helped him the rest of the way. She tried her best holding back any tears for him, but at the same she felt she was doing her good friend a great service, helping him find some peace. At the top of the building felt chilly, almost winter weather even. Damien gave Phylicia her coat and welcomed the cold air as it flowed through his body. For the first time in years, he was happy to feel free. Cara went up to him as she stood by and watched the half moon shining in the far distance of D.C.

"It's beautiful." He told Cara.

"Yeah. It feels like years since I just...looked up." She chuckled.

"Cara, what happens in the next few minutes, I don't want you to regret it."

"We've been through a lot together. The only thing I regret was not getting to you sooner." She said holding out one of the syringes, trembling.

She practiced this scene in her head dozens of time before going to Washington. By now, she thought she was ready to "kill" him and have him be at peace. Nearly dropping the syringe, Phylicia grabbed it in time and saw Cara trembling. At first she thought it was the cold. "You should go inside and warm up. I'll stay with him." Phylicia told her when Cara refused the fact she wasn't going to turn his back on him right then and there. Damien took the syringe and collapsed on his knees from the cold ground ceasing to support his feet.

"I got him. You don't have to stay." Phylicia said as Cara turned away from a tarnished sight. "She'll be okay."

"I don't blame her." He coughed profusely. "We left Norway, thinking we would never see another viral outbreak, but in the end our actions were for nothing."

"That's not true. You guys put your lives on a thread so the elixir wouldn't get out."

"We went there so people like Monica and I wouldn't go to jail. Look how that turned out. But this needs to happen."

"Are you afraid?" She whispered to him.

"It's funny. One of my greatest nightmares with me at the end, feeling remorse. Not to mention reuniting with a good friend one more time." He chuckled and smiled at her. "How will I die?"

"Peacefully." She spoke with certainty.

Phylicia stood back as she placed him back on his knees with syringe firm in his decaying hands. He raised it to the right side of his neck, sticking it in the decaying flesh; a new strain of blue and grey fluid swiveled in his body. He was feeling the burning sensation, but it didn't bother him. Like she said, he was going to go peacefully. "Goodbye Damien..." she said out loud as the vaccine took its toll on the skeletal structure on his body, slowly turning to ash while a passing wind carried his remains across the sky in a matter of seconds. No more suffering, no more waiting. It ended on a somber moment that would never be discovered. It didn't hit Phylicia hard until that very moment he faded away. She dropped on her knees and broke down in regret for the pain she caused him. There was one thing left to do. The word "severance" came to mind.


	14. Epilogue Part I: Severance

Epilogue Part 1

Severance

The burial was finally set. It concluded just as anyone with a dying wish wanted it to be: on their own terms without any pain to follow them into the darkness of eternal slumber. Damien Walsh got his last wish, if not for the bittersweet end of the deal with his worst nightmare and the only true friend he ever made with him in his final moments. Phylicia spent half an hour grieving for the mistake she made before saying some final words to help him to the afterlife. They consisted of how sorry she was and that she blamed herself for not having any control over her killing impulse.

Being through so much at the temple without any grasp on what the real world was like could take a mental toll on the mind, regardless if they are human or not. However, she didn't consider it as an excuse. She then thought to what her father once told her a lifetime before their lives were altered: "Don't apologize for the damage that has already been set in motion. Instead, own up to the mistake and try to fix it somehow. Forgiveness may be far from the mind of the wronged, but no human being can make every problem in this world vanish."

That piece of advice came flooding back to her on the rooftop, decided she was going to stop apologizing for what happened a decade ago and go make sure the second anomaly with elixir inside wasn't going to harm anybody else. Going back inside, slowly walking down the stairway back to the main lobby of the hotel, she saw Cara sitting on one of the sofas overlooking the glass décor not moving a muscle. Phylicia stood a few feet away from her as she shook her head and faced the music head on.

"Hey, it's me." She said startling Cara.

"Sorry, I was…never mind. Was it quick?" Cara asked sniffling.

"He is not suffering anymore. I can promise you that." Phylicia sighed, sitting on the glass platform in front of her. "Cara, if I ask you something, would you promise not to be mad?"

"I won't get mad. I'm more exhausted to be honest with you."

"You think it would've been better if he died in the temple? I'm not condoning the fact his death was important to the fate of the elixir. I'm just saying _if_ he had a quick death, he would've been spared a decade's worth of pain."

"The damage is done, Phylicia." Cara spoke plainly. "We all signed our lives away to escape our own problems. We, or at least I didn't, had the common sense like we do now. Terrell gave it his all, Monroe didn't stand a chance, and Monica…like you said we can't keep apologizing for old wounds. The best we can do is prevent new ones."

"That's more along the lines of what Claire tells us. Look, if you want to book a room for the night…" Phylicia suggested before Cara declined.

"I'm good. I'll call Claire and tell her what happened." She replied looking through her phone. "There's a flight leaving for New York at midnight. We should be back at work by eight or nine tomorrow morning...we did the right thing. No fraternity is going to touch my friend now."

Since the C-virus outbreak, both Cara and Phylicia have worked with hundreds of other TerraSave employees, delivering vaccines to thousands of infectees over the nineteen month span. There were hardly any breaks or days off in between. Claire began offering time off to anyone who needed it a couple months before, back when the viral outbreak wasn't so severe. Without telling one another, both have been planning their exit strategies to do something that had nothing to do with lab coats or watching CDC specialists clean up human waste off the floors. Patiently waiting for their time for so long that after Damien's recent death it sealed the time frame to just walk away from it all. They went outside the hotel as Cara contacted the taxi service to pick them up. Phylicia then told her to go back without her.

"There is something I have to take care of first. I'll let Claire know what's going to happen afterwards."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with that second anomaly, is it?" Cara asked.

"For some strange reason, this one is connected to me too. Whoever swung that must have ties to the temple somehow. I'm going to find out how."

"Be careful." She told her.

Careful wasn't really her strong suit. After what she went through with her capture in Sweden and leaping across state lines to find some salvation from her past, she had gotten overzealous and started fighting back. Living outside a prison for nine years can really alter one's point of view. In her case, she learned not to become a pawn in the power struggle between sadistic corporations who have God complexes, or making Bio-organic weapons with teenage brains as the main ingredient. What Alex said to her in the scroll held some truth; her blood was special.

However, not in the way she hoped it would. The best thing TerraSave was able to do was to synthesize the blood of Jake Muller and her blood, and see if it would create an effective vaccine that could combat any virus that was put on the map. Instead, it makes the infectee's body prone to making their last days comfortable. In a small way, that was a good advantage of her blood. It helped infected people leave this world, and not with an RPG fired at their torsos either.

She power walked four blocks around D.C. to see if she could get a read on her second victim to the elixir. She has been getting abnormal vibes from this one in particular. Suddenly, the drones the CDC sent to locate the anomalies were buzzing around where she was. She took the darkness as her haven on side streets and narrow passages as she made her way around without getting seen. Eventually she found herself looking upon the aftermath of something interesting. A fight brewed behind a department store; the blood and cracks in the foundation was old, but not by a grand margin. Suddenly, an observation popped in her head as she was looking around.

"Someone was writhing in pain here." She said looking at the old blood puddle as quick flashbacks show a familiar face. "Damien, what was he…traces of skin tissue burning."

"_Sherry, do you have a paper towel? I can't get granny ash out of my fingernails." _Someone else spoke as another flash back showed Damien's rage in his eyes.

"_You son of a bitch!" _Damien screamed.

"He was provoked. What was he doing here? The other voice sounds familiar too. It might be…" She said smelling elixir residue where the Mark was standing. "Mark."

"I'm that predictable huh?" Mark spoke in two voices at once.

Phylicia turned around and saw a figure cast in shadow. It was Mark alright, but for some odd reason he didn't attack on the spot like Damien did to him earlier in the day. He expressed his labored breathing and spoke as if he wasn't human anymore. Mark still regarded her as the White Queen who has been guiding him in his hallucinations. She stood up and faced him as two anomalies hiding from the CDC.

It was hardly a coincidence as the drones drew closer to the alleyway. Buzzing crept closer when suddenly he grabbed Phylicia and told her to hold on. Before she knew it, her sight escaped her when the claustrophobia of the alley reintroduced her to another part of D.C. They were standing in a park of sorts. It was kind of like Central Park in New York, but wasn't as spacious or as public. Mark Omahan went from a disgruntled head of Logistics for National Security; to having a grudge against Sherry for opportunities he only went through paperwork for, to being the odd man out when the Family expelled him to his addiction to elixir blood. Once Phylicia got her senses back, she confronted Mark possibly for the last time.

"This is a first, your highness. You usually find me when I'm at my worst."

"Things are changing, Mark. Sooner or later, we are going to have to part ways."

"But I need your help." Mark said groveling in his own misery. "The Family kicked me out. My contact, Svetlana, I knew what a conniving bitch she is. Part of me wanted to believe…part of me wanted to say she was going to get me out of this jam, out of respect to Simmons. If it weren't for me smuggling her out of Russia…I need you to get me back in. I want to show their ditzy leader what it really means to gain immortality."

"That depends. I get you inside will you take my gift seriously?" Phylicia asked him.

"You know…you sound different; younger even. Maybe it's just me." He chuckled quietly.

"People on this planet don't know who they are anymore. With all that's happened with the C-virus, the human race needs a loophole out of the destruction they made for themselves."

"Does this mean you'll help me? I'm tired of running from drones and my path in life. I want my family to be proud of me for once."

Phylicia dwelled on her decision while both took a rest under a big tree with thick leaves, hopefully preventing the drones from spotting their life readings. However, the smell from Mark was unfathomably strong. Compared to her own blood, she felt normal. While one problem was slowly being settled, another problem was being investigated at the burning safe house just southwest of D.C. Sherry and Brewster were at the scene, stating their departments and speaking to the cops to try to find an explanation on what went on.

It was almost eight at night, but the smoke was at its highest. By the time they were done explaining what Adrien Grey's purpose was for being at the safe house in the first place, a shocking sight punched Sherry in the gut when she caught a glimpse of the massive crater, and the smell that was seething from the ground's burning roots. One of the cops gave gas masks and insulated suits to them as they were told of a high concentration of toxic substances. What was the substance itself was something both the Commissioner and a medical specialist from TerraSave were trying to piece together. Luckily, the specialist was none other than Cara herself.

"I was told people from National Security were coming. Cara Moreno." She told them as they were walking towards the crater.

"How the hell did this happen? Did you manage to find Adrien Grey?" Sherry asked.

"That's the problem. Whoever blew up the safe house had some kind of custom made explosive that made any residue impossible to trace. We've been looking all around the perimeter for the past hour, but there is a toxic substance coming from the ground. Are you guys up for some excavation?"

"Going up shit's creek without water wings has been a daily activity for us." Brewster chimed in.

The crater was dug into a tunnel as a team of TerraSave specialists went in with Sherry and Brewster. Suddenly, Sherry requested the team to hang back while both she and Brewster were going to investigate the source behind the explosion. One of the workers rebutted against a call from another division when Cara held them back, and thought it was a good call. She heard of Sherry's involvement in both Edonia and China when she was escorting a wanted mercenary in their fight against the C-virus. However, she couldn't bring herself to understand her reasoning for staying with National Security when her own boss turned against her. There was no sleep for the betrayal she thought. As Cara allowed the more capable types to go inside the crater, she got her team topside and proposed some more excavation for anything they may have missed.

"Moreno, this is very ill-advised. They don't even know what's down there." A worker told her.

"Neither do we, Harry. But Agent Birkin can handle herself. They'll be back out before you know it."

"I wish I can share your hasty optimism, but I'm a realist. Departments like ours, National Security, FOS, even that third party that's attending the Vice Presidential banquet this weekend." Harry kept saying standing in Cara's path. "Look, all I'm saying is this world has lost enough human lives because their department set this whole thing in motion. I thank god every day since China my parents weren't there like they were planning to on their anniversary. Those casualty reports Director Redfield showed us, I-I can't…"

"I understand how you feel. I wanted this crap to end too when she called me to investigate this explosion. We're still breathing, Harry. Let's keep it that way." Cara replied walking past him.

"Fine, I get it really. But if it turns out their new boss is dead because he was too over ambitious in doing _our_ job, it's on them."

Midnight strolls have been over the past nineteen months frowned upon for people to do. Viral spikes were popping up at random times on TerraSave's radars, even a few in their own backyard in New York. As for Vice President Keyes, he's been keeping a strict warning for those unaffected by the C-virus to stay indoors and to keep their surroundings sterilized. A few managed to sneak out and were taken into custody for quarantine, but some others were a little slicker than the average truant. Phylicia and Mark took their stroll around the park where the moon didn't shine so bright on them.

For the time being, there were no sounds of CDC drones tracking them down. She was walking in front with Mark barely keeping up behind her, thinking of how she was able to help him fight his way back into the Family fraternity. After twelve minutes of brisk pacing, Mark was getting restless if not losing his patience.

"Your highness, I'm enjoying the cool, fresh air. But I'm ready to tear some insides out, one by one from each member."

"Who is running this fraternity?" She asked.

"Does it matter; now's a good time as any to come up with a plan of your own. I'm all ears."

"Then hear this." She said turning to face him. "You honestly believe if you go back to the Family alone, no means to…"

"I have to try!" Mark pleaded with her.

"You really think they're just going to back down because of some bullshit mutation you're going through right now?"

"Except this mutation is real; you said so yourself. You told me to drink the vials of every member so I could feel the effects quicker, and you were right. I wanted Sherry Birkin…to feel the same way. She's a hybrid you see; G-virus healing without the mutation. I know this won't be easy for the world to swallow, but the human race has suffered enough on Simmons' account. I'll admit that. Please Venezia, I have to try." He went on as sounds of bone crunching occurred around his body.

Mark suddenly dropped on the ground, groveling in pain as his mutation was progressing even further. His legs ceased to be human, turning into dinosaur type legs and his face was so unrecognizable even in his own eyes, he knew what he was asking for was not something he actually wanted. Like many people who have been victims of dangerous viruses, he too saw himself as being tired of it all. However, his pride refused to let him speak his true feelings.

"But why, why put yourself in more pain than you are in right now?"

"The Family hung me out to dry. You think I'm just going to take it while they're screwing up the world with their twisted viruses?"

"Do you even feel yourself wasting away? Immortality is not worth it if you're not breathing. You won't be able to handle it." She said as Mark struggled to stand up.

"What the hell do you know about what I can handle? You got no idea what I can handle, what I've been coping with! You want to point me in the right direction? Come on, give me a boost."

"I can't." She said looking at him with a straight face.

Right then, Mark lost control. He was going on about a saying he clung to said by Venezia: "There is no good or evil in this world. There are just people who have been given too much freedom." As he was writhing in pain from further mutation, he boasted about how he was a better person than all the Family members combined. Half his life he has been taking up arms against Umbrella in whatever way possible until their stocks crashed in the new millennium, then as an Agent from National Security he went undercover on the Black Market trade where ex-Umbrella employees were selling their secrets and making small fortunes off viral samples and lab equipment.

However, he made little progress on that front when most of the trade was cut off when the BSAA stepped in and sent agents to apprehend the suppliers. When it came to doing what was right in his mind, or trying to clear the evil Umbrella left behind, he always felt he came in last. Playing by the rules was always his strong suit in his human life, but as the years went by and viral outbreaks grew bigger, he resorted into the one thing he took up arms against. The only difference was he tried to act outside the agency, even took a few BSAA agents with him to prevent the deformed underworld from selling T-abyss samples after the Terrigrigia panic in 2008. It turned out everything he did, everything he acted out and struggled towards to be accepted, was only to seek approval from his step-father.

That man was none other than Derek C. Simmons. He hid that part of his life from the rest of the world to avoid being investigated in crimes against Edonia and China, and the fact he was partly ashamed of him for using his ex-wife in a cloning experiment because she couldn't love him anymore. Defending his step-father's honor was in his own twisted way, the only way to stay sane. He already lost his mother back when the Ashford family was alive and not as demented as their heirs were. As he confessed all this to Phylicia, she was starting to see the man still fighting to break away from the monster he created for himself.

All she felt for him at the time was pity; it was beyond the point of no return. Mark then spoke of how crippled the world was, filled with weak pawns constantly trapped between power struggles against corporations and the unknown. "It's 2014, and we still don't know how to fix ourselves." He said just before he got back on his feet and was about to strike Phylicia where she stood. She grabbed his already mutated arm as burgundy substance dripped onto her grip. To an extent, she understood where he was coming from. She decided to help.

"On one condition: we take a breather for a minute. Ok?" She asked as she gently lowered his arm on the ground. "Easy does it. Now listen to me, Mark. There is still a way back for you; nothing you did has harmed anybody. Now, we're going to dust ourselves off, and we're going to take a trip to this Family fraternity, together." She continued as he looked at her with sense of fighting back. "You get your retribution; these viral outbreaks come to an end, and we'll put this all behind us. What do you say?"

Mark lowered all his defenses and sighed as he agreed to her terms. She helped him up as his labored breathing had gotten worse from just a swing of his mutated fist. Once she got him to stand face to face, she immediately struck him with a second syringe she had hidden in her trench coat. Putting her hand over his mouth, he screamed through her palm as his burgundy substance flowed out of his system like little waterfalls from his eyes and lower body. Second after passing second, he too was fading as the burning sensation incinerated what was left of him. Phylicia offered no apology for her actions, but only made a promise to both him and Damien that their deaths will bring nothing but irony to those who had bestowed it in the first place.

After all this time, she felt her days were numbered as well. Cool air and keeping an occupied mind were only keeping her blood from boiling inside her completely. She wasn't a walking cure like Jake Muller was for the C-virus, but the polar opposite. That was, until another mysterious figure from the same darkness spoke with civility yet sinisterly at the same time. She didn't recognize him. Yet strange enough, his shadow didn't resemble a man.

"_That is one problem out of the way. Such an insufferable nuisance he was." He said as Phylicia looked up. "Manipulation was always your strong suit, Ms. Kurinthian. We look forward to having you on our side."_

"Who is "we" exactly?" She asked in suspicion.

"_My dear, time is working against us. If you would please…"_

The crater tunnel kept going deeper and deeper as Sherry and Brewster went along. They ventured far away from the surface that the only light they were able to sustain were the flashlights on their suits, but even that wasn't enough. With stun baton in hand, Sherry treaded a little faster to check out what was ahead; all that was seen however was more darkness. The more they moved, the more it was realized the tunnel they were was not dug recently. According to Brewster, the dirt felt crusty; as if something occurred underground for a couple decades.

Other than their footprints and the sounds of rock pebbles making acoustic sounds as they fell, nothing abnormal crept out of the ordinary. Suddenly, Sherry came across some dying moaning heard faintly in the blackened distance. Both picked up the pace as they checked their corners moving through the tunnel. Pretty soon they found some light and the smell of industrial equipment as its power was making the environment too warm for their liking. They found themselves looking at an old control room of sorts; there were seven computers gathering dust and a huge, rectangular monitor that was the same National Security uses to locate potential threats around the world. There was still no Adrien around which caused worry to both agents.

"I don't know, Sherry. I read up on coal mining work centers around Washington, but I don't think they had command centers for workers to take coffee breaks."

"I know I heard something, someone faintly screaming for help. This has to be the right place."

"We didn't see any other smoke signals on the ride over." He replied investigating the equipment. "Maybe this place still has some juice left in it…Sherry, when Adrien called you at the hospital and found out the third party attending the banquet, you don't think…"

"There isn't much to go on about their fraternity. They work in secret, policing the world while it went to shit over the last sixteen years. I don't get it. How can an explosion not leave any shred of evidence behind, let alone human ash?"

"At this point, anything's possible. Got any theories on who that woman on the phone was?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. For now, we need to focus on where Adrien is, or where the Family took him."

Sorting through blankets of dust covering the machines, something was turned on. One computer activated with the others following suit. It started out as any regular computer would, but then the screens went black with an insignia following after: an ancient circle with markings and two serpents entwined by one another, forming the same Family seals that were scattered as warnings back when Derek Simmons was alive. When it came up on screen, Sherry recognized it immediately. At first, Brewster thought it was Simmons rising from the grave to protect whatever importance his name held left behind, but wiping the moisture off their visors the computer screens fizzled over to another image; a template with a quote from a wise, yet fearful figure of the world, Dante.

"Look in my face; my name is Might-have-been; I am also called No-more, Too-late, Farewell." These words faded into something more sinister as the computers brought both agents into an old house, filled with centuries of Family history, all the way to the founding of the fraternity. It then showed gruesome images of old relics from the looks of them, torn and mangled as warnings from someone else. Judging by the seven rings placed on a dining room table, they were once worn by recent members who met their destructive ends by a B.O.W. This must've been what Adrien was looking into Sherry thought, but the weird thing was why would all the equipment still be intact if the safe house above them was blown away?

While the footage kept showing the gruesome deaths, Sherry managed to get a quick look at a monster that was lurking in the shadows. It passed by one of the surveillance feeds; it had a tail of some sort. Just when they thought the deaths stopped on the ground floor of the fraternity, feeds show other parts of the house that was filled with blood and scratches on the walls. Suddenly, a familiar B.O.W. graced the feeds with its impending stare of its cold, white eyes with a build that could match the Nemesis. Sherry recognized it as a T-103: Mr. X as it was aliased. Then another quote came up that wasn't said by Philosophers or great thinkers.

"The descendant disobeyed his founders and has brought shame to his birthright. His blood dripped and drenched the floors of Neo-Umbrella, representing a past that should be forever buried. I assure you, his actions were of a feeble heart. We on the other hand, will shelter those who have felt his pain and transcend them the way God intended. The time for evolution is now." A seismic occurrence was heating up from where they were. It was a typical self-destruct sequence to keep the evidence in deserved eyes. Sherry and Brewster ran back into the darkened tunnels, didn't think twice what was happening behind them.

Brewster nearly lost his footing when he tripped on a loose rock, catching himself by his hands. By the time they made it out, both fell in over four pounds of old, radiated soil toppling on top of them. Cara and the rest of the team wasted no time getting the agents out of the dirty rut they were in. Thankfully, their suits didn't get torn open from what Cara was able to see. By the time Sherry regained consciousness, a medical team was checking her out as well as Brewster. It was nearly dawn.

"Welcome back to the living." Cara said patching her up. "Did you guys find your Chief Advisor?"

"He wasn't down there." She said looking for her phone. "I need to make a call to my superiors, let them know what's happened. One of them is going to have a field day. How's Brewster?"

"He's going to be fine. He's out like a light though; the impacted soil must've knocked him out. Wait, I didn't see this before." She said looking at a veiny mark on her left shoulder blade. "It doesn't look recent."

"It's nothing."

"A paper cut is nothing. To be safe, I think we should get you back to our ER; have a look at that."

"Claire's already aware of this." Sherry replied. "I'll be fine. How's Damien; I was told you went to go see him."

"I'm sure he's grateful for you allowing him to tell his story. The past nine years was killing him to get the truth out."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

"We still got a long day ahead of us. The Vice Presidential banquet is getting close." Cara said, giving Sherry her cell phone. "Take it easy for now."

When Cara turned her back and went to go attend to something else, Sherry had this aching feeling that what happened to Damien didn't result him anxiously waiting for a cab to take him back to Denver. She never knew him personally; only thing they had in common at the time was both had something horrific inside of themselves the past left behind. The thing was, he lost his life because he chose not to face his inner demons literally. As for Sherry, she was slowly losing her one curse that served her well over the years. She would've died in the snow with helicopter shrapnel stuck in her back if it wasn't for her healing ability.

In some ways, she was content that what her bastard father did to her at such a young age was finally fading away, never again the guinea pig she was forced to be under the greasy palms of desperate scientists. A few hours into the late morning, the dig site where the safe house used to be was patched and closed off to the public. Toxic readings on TerraSave's radar went from moderate to nil. While Cara was packing up, she forgot to ask Sherry about what she found in the tunnels; then again maybe she didn't care she thought. The world was already going through enough of a tough time that one more rumored outbreak might have done her in.

She gave Phylicia a call to see how she dealt with the second anomaly the CDC was after. On the ride back to TerraSave with Harry and three other team members, a radio broadcast was talking about recent events at the Washington Park.

"According to reports, it was rumored that two viral anomalies were occurring at the Washington Park around 7:45 last night. The Center for Disease Control sent out five tracking drones to find the two signatures, and apprehend them for experimenting. However, when they were just 8.5 minutes away from the hot zone, one anomaly evaporated from the charts like it never existed in the first place. As for the second viral target, it has been confirmed it is still at large, if not within Washington's backyard. But it seems for now, the citizens of D.C. can finally breathe knowing they can sleep soundly again.

In other major news, the Vice Presidential banquet is being held this Saturday night at the Hotel Monaco downtown. This event will bring together all departments that have had heavy involvement on the global cleanup since the C-virus outbreak. As you are all aware, it ended in Lanshiang, China on July 1st of last year. The BSAA, TerraSave directors, National Security, Government agents from FOS, even the Senator from Chicago Alexander Rothstein will be showing up to formulate a solution to future outbreaks. I know it is wishful thinking on many of our minds these days so we will see how this plays out. As for the joint facilities of Neo-Umbrella, BSAA agents Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine have intercepted ten on the east coast, and have come across dead ends on each. Coming to you live is our reporter, Terrence Campbell, giving us an update on the surrounding facilities…"

The ride back to TerraSave wasn't all that comfortable for Cara since her bodily joints and exhaustion held back her flight, and had to set up shop with one of the medical facilities for Sherry and Brewster. What also plagued her mind was the mystery behind Phylicia's decking of her phone calls. As for the other backseat drivers, they were a little on edge about the sudden arisen facilities Neo-Umbrella kept cropping up. Harry, being the driver and one of Cara's less annoying partners, saw the dark circles around her eyes and was feeling concerned about her mental stasis.

"Claire really screwed you over putting you on the grave yard shift. Are you feeling alright?"

"I...I don't know how to answer that, Harry. I mean, does the Vice President honestly see an end to all these outbreaks? The last President couldn't put an end to it after his daughter was returned to him. Albert Wesker went homicidal in Africa trying to play God with Uroboros. I could ramble on, but I need some coffee first."

"Look, I know this won't help. But the things you did in Norway years ago, they inspired me to believe we _can_ push back the evil Umbrella forced down on us. I still can't fathom how five ordinary teenagers were able to take down an entire temple, and live to tell about it. Not to mention you connected with a spirit that helped you guys along the way. How's your friend uh…Walsh?"

"He's fine. I'd like to drop the subject if that's okay with you." Cara said sternly.

"I'm sor…got it. You should get some sleep. We're almost to the treatment center." Harry said as Cara closed her eyes.

The clock was ticking ever closer on both sides of the drawn out battles against the unknown. The Vice President and his people were making banquet preparations at the hotel as well as the BSAA's second Captain in command, Jill Valentine to establish defensive perimeters around the building and the surrounding blocks that lead towards the same location. They weren't taking any chances with the supposed fraternity trying anything elusive. TerraSave, National Security and other departments strategized and prepped for the evening, taking their extra precautions to keep minimal casualties if need be. Agents Leon Kennedy and Helena Harper were working security detail on the interior of the building. The other side of the worn out battlefield wasn't as meticulous in its preparations as the other side has been.

Phylicia had seen better days; well not being imprisoned in a temple for years she thought but she was on the outside, relearning how society changed in her absence. It was just as Claire described it to her when she decided to be a consensual test subject to combat any virus that was still selling on the black market. She went from making a promise to two of her victims that she was going to find the Family herself, and make sure they don't cause any more pain to others. A common promise she thought; she wasn't a superhuman fighter that can make the clichéd Mary Sue jealous, but she still retained a few fighting techniques Alex taught her. The next thing she knew, she heard an unfamiliar voice speaking of a familiar loose end no longer needed to be tied.

Waking up with sunlight beaming her slightly opened eyes, she found herself sleeping in her own clothes and inside a Condo of sorts. For the time being, it seemed safe; nothing out of the ordinary or abandoned. As she raised her head from the silk pillow on the bed, she felt a twinge on the left side of her neck. It came and went just as quickly. She also had a bathroom within walking distance, and as she went inside she checked herself in the mirror for anything injected.

There were no marks on her neck other than the faded scars she got from Norway. She bent down and washed her face to make her vision a little clearer. As soon as she saw the mirror, a phantom appeared from the right side of where she stood. She got startled for a bit as she looked behind instantly. Shaking her head, she dried up her face and walked out of the room. Other than her rude awakening, the hallway leading to the first floor of the Condo was normal still. The smell of vodka and cherry pancakes caught her nose and didn't let go until she was brought before the owner's study. Suspicion slowly became hunger when the pancakes kept calling her name. It was one of her favorite foods before her life "ended" as a teen. She opened up the doors and found herself looking at the flag of the Eastern Slav Republic as well as news clippings talking about the rise and fall of the owner's presidency. Not to mention news of her owning B.O.W.s.

"I trust you slept well, my dear?" She asked taking a sip of Vodka.

"Where am I?" Phylicia asked looking around the study.

"A simple "thank you" would not go amiss. That park in Washington is filled with adolescent thieves. Not that you wouldn't have been able to handle them yourself. This is my home…for the time being anyway. Would you like some breakfast?"

Phylicia sat down in front of her desk as she was given a plate of three, cherry pancakes with powdered sugar. Her stomach kept keeping her suspicion at bay. She took the plate and started eating.

"Thank you for your help."

"Your welcome; now I think it is time for you to do something for me. That man you spoke to in the park, I was sensing some history there when I was how do you say…in the neighborhood."

"Listen ma'am no disrespect, but that man and I…it wasn't supposed to happen. He opted out. I guess you can say I was helping a friend." She replied eating her pancakes.

"Helping a desperate friend turn to ash without setting off any fires? That's quite a skill you got."

"I think it's my turn to ask you a question. Who are you?" She asked as her suspicion outweighed her hunger.

"I was once a respected political figure in Russia as you can see all of my "accomplishments". My name is Svetlana Belikova: a woman exiled from her country with no disciples to pass on my skills to."

"Skills…?"

"Do you believe that there is more to the human race than we lead ourselves on? For centuries, we have taken upon ourselves to discover a key to eternal life, to be able to live through the ages and see what the future brings. Then mediums such as cinema, books, and crackpot theories, the idea was thrown out the window. No one will ever believe immortality is achievable. As a fighting instructor from Kosovo, teaching students to be more than they were was what made them strong. I took in paupers, abused children, thirsty brawlers, turned them all into warriors. Then I became Madame President of Eastern Slav and all that changed, but I didn't care. The Umbrella Corporation; they were everywhere you see? Over time, my students fell prey to their thoughtless monsters and ravaged my country. I chose to avenge them with minimal bloodshed by stealing their blueprints and using their own nightmares against them. This may sound sickening to you, but I have grown rather fond of their creativity for destruction."

"Where is this sob story going?" Phylicia asked. "Madame President: exposed for possessing Bio-organic weapons against resistance members who were trying to overthrow her rule. It's kind of funny when you think about it; a resistance fighter having the ability to control lickers and a single Government agent making things difficult on the other side. Not to mention you nearly got bested by a Chinese spy who is now an international criminal."

"You've done your homework, my dear. But my knowledge on those events hurt me still." She went on leaning forward. "So don't test my sentiment for your history. What you did to Mark Omahan was unforgiveable…yet necessary."

There was a hint of regret in Svetlana's voice when she mentioned Mark's demise. It was a few days before she was to be executed on Russian soil for crimes against her own country. Her place of power was decimated, her possessions of Bio-organic weapons were destroyed and discarded as a heinous afterthought. Her trusted advisors were sentenced life in prison after the BSAA discovered the fate of Elder Attaman and his inner circle of old soldiers who led the resistance in the first place. One of the Family's very own Mark Omahan took it upon himself to travel to the Eastern Slav Republic and smuggle Svetlana out of the country, tasked secretly by Derek Simmons himself before taking his post in National Security. Phylicia saw it in her eyes that she wasn't ready to die that day of her execution, but couldn't help but feel sorrow for Mark for what he had to go through.

He was trapped between two evils: his step-father and going outside the Family circle to assist a criminal. When one was taken away and the other betrayed him, he couldn't help but act out his frustration. The Family was once a normal society to keep the global balance in check; it has been that way since the founding by Kith and Kin Simmons. He made no impact on the world as a whole, just playing a part with no intention of changing. At one point, he wanted an end to all viral outbreaks.

That was until a new foreign resource from Norway caught his attention. It was brought by a mercenary who once worked with Umbrella; fell off the face of the Earth after the Raccoon City outbreak. Though the findings of Norway never reached Simmons' ears, another person of mystery took interest and kept its contents along with another virus from her fallen past. Mark got a little too curious and started digging on the temple incident back in 2005. From what he gathered, the elixir of Valhalla was the missing component to the Progenitor Virus made by Ozwell Spencer.

Suddenly, Sherry swiped the opportunity to interview the survivors behind the incident. Thing was, the computer he was using to research at the time wasn't his own. Phylicia's connection to him was a passerby thing; her "other side" did most of the talking, commanding him to do inhumane things with a sultry voice and a firm hold. None of it mattered at that point; she freed him from the Family's grip and made no apologies for it. But one thing was for sure; the next few minutes between her and the Russian harlot were going to end with one person leaving the Condo. Her blood was boiling still; however whether or not she still retained some of the White Queen's abilities was still up in the air with the twinge on Phylicia's neck kept making a twisting feeling. Both were itching to know if the "real" Phylicia was going to come out of hiding.

"Let's not do this, Svetlana. I prefer not to damage your study."

"I concur." She replied getting from her chair. "Last time someone got on my bad side, we fought; the Chinese spy Ada Wong as you mentioned. Mark served his purpose, but his addiction to be great became more to bear than he cared to realize. Does Claire Redfield know you're here? Of course she does. Let's skip to the reason why you're in my house. Jake Muller's blood was the key to curing the C-virus around the world. Combined with Alex Wesker's elixir, it will make any B.O.W. impervious to opposition; especially an RPG. We have yet to find him, but why go after the son when the source is sitting in front of me?"

"Alex is dead, and you're not taking my blood." Phylicia promised her as she stood up. "Mark trusted you, and we both failed him. Don't come looking for me…"

Phylicia took no more than two and a half steps before she felt a certain reaction that put a spring into a full third step. It happened like one spitting image flashing into another. Just as Svetlana pressed a button on her desk to lock down her study door, Phylicia was already out leaving a splintering hole she made headfirst in her attempted escape. Running frantically for an exit, every door and window in the entire Condo was on lockdown with blue flickering lights indicating alarms going off. She ignored the ear breaking sounds as much as she could, but suddenly the twinge in her neck made her feel sick inside.

With ringing in her ears and feeling cold on her toes, the blood boiling in her body ceased to be hot, and left a churning feeling in her stomach like she was about to retch her insides out in the open. She was on her knees, trying to make sense of it all in the main foyer when thumping footsteps made an impact more trembling after each passing step. Her fingers went stiff, mist slowly flowed from the air vents making quick work of the scenery as blinding as a violent rainstorm. Suddenly, her blood started bubbling again but not in heat. She got up and felt her way around the Condo blind; the mist made her vocal cords frozen as she felt a hand grasping her left shoulder. She looked to her left; even with blind eyes she gave Svetlana this look like she had her where she wanted her.

"TerraSave did not do much to help with your condition. It's understandable. Simmons kept every Pharmaceutical busy while he was alive, making our gateway to the Family fraternity that more invigorating. It took two swift nights to kill off their personnel, their Hunters, Cerberus dogs, and Reapers dispatched. The giants who shaped the world for what it is today are merely food from the monsters they allowed Umbrella to concoct." She said as Phylicia was shivering. "I know this hurts, Ms. Kurinthian. Believe me when I say there is no _way _you are leaving my sight until we are satisfied." She said as the footsteps came in the shape of an eight foot tall B.O.W.

"Old habits die hard." Phylicia shivered at the sight of Mr. X.

"Extract every drop of her blood, my pet." Svetlana ordered him. "Then dispose her remains."

A Mr. X Tyrant was standing before her true to form, ready to attack without question. They were manufactured to be incredibly strong and have teenage brains implanted in their heads. They stand as if they're ready for battle and can move from a tormenting point of view to almost sprinting to make their attacks more lethal. They are the equivalents to the Nemesis: equal in strength, menacing on how focused they are. Phylicia sat like she was a frozen sculpture when the tyrant raised his monstrous grip and swooped on down to grab her neck.

Ducking her head and wobbling her way under him, she latched onto his metal neck brace as she gained a seven second window for Svetlana. The idea was mad, but with what strength she had she put it all on her legs and leaped forward, putting her in a chokehold in front of Mr. X himself. There was no time for negotiation; mostly because the tyrant didn't grant as much as he rushed towards the both of them. With no time to react, Svetlana's chest left a big gaping hole from where her creation left, but with all that effort of Phylicia escaping, the floor opened for the three of them as they fell into the depths of the Condo. The cool rush left her blood in free fall, allowing her to see where Mr. X was falling.

Before they knew it, a loud thump on the hard surface left a loud echo that lasted for a good two minutes before Phylicia was able to get all her senses back. She found herself on top of the B.O.W., brought before two large cages with a certain outcome in each. One was filled with Lickers while the other was going to be a one-on-one with another T-103. Both had enough space for Phylicia to defend herself; looking around Svetlana's body was nowhere to be seen. With no cell phone or any other form of S.O.S. she was on her own.

Then gurgling sounds took on form in the shadows as lickers were pressing their teeth and claws to break free of their spacious prison. Suddenly, the sounds of heels echoing the ground made their way towards the downed B.O.W. She caught her scent; Svetlana walked without so much as a scratch or an ounce of fear for the monsters she kept. In Phylicia's mind, it was bringing back old memories of the temple. If her theory was correct, the "new" Family may have done something that has been beaten down and discarded for decades: a stepping stone to achieve immortality.

15


End file.
